


Losing the Light

by everythingmurky



Series: Valley of the Shadow [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Case Fic, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 74,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingmurky/pseuds/everythingmurky
Summary: After being the target of Joe Miller's revenge, Hardy stayed in Broadchurch and resumed his duties as detective inspector just before a serial rapist attacked another victim.An alternate telling of season three, following the events of Understanding of the Dark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A while back, someone asked me if I was going to do a follow up to Understanding of the Dark, wondering what it would be like for Hardy confronting this case after what Joe did to him in that story.
> 
> I considered it, put it to the side while the series was still airing, and decided after the end of the show left me a bit dissatisfied that I would go ahead and write it. That, and I was stuck on one story, need a second story for the other AU as I'm thinking my ideas for the historical one would be better as a third story, and so this happened.
> 
> It shouldn't have, but it did.

* * *

“Is he in?” Ellie heard herself ask. Having his daughter open the door threw Ellie for a loop, and she didn't exactly recover gracefully. It wasn't unusual to see that he was awake, what with him having chronic insomnia _and_ PTSD, but she hadn't expected Daisy to answer the door.

Daisy gave her a frown, and Ellie almost hated herself for having to ask after that look, since she already knew that Hardy was having another bad night—one that was going to get a lot worse soon enough—but she had to get him.

“Another case?”

Ellie nodded. “It... I think it's important, or I wouldn't have bothered him this late, no matter what he says.”

Daisy snorted, stepping back from the door. “He always thinks they're more important. More than him, more than me.”

“Bad copper's habit,” Ellie agreed, though she got a smile from Daisy, who had more or less accepted her father's job after moving to be with him full time. Ellie thought she'd gotten the unpleasant task of being his keeper, but she hadn't ever asked or looked too close into it, since Hardy was even pricklier than before after being abducted.

It was nice she had Daisy on her side for keeping him in line or knowing what was going on with him, though, so Ellie made sure she didn't mess that up, ever.

“I don't suppose he made any tea while he was up?” Ellie asked, thinking she'd like some, though she'd prefer it if he'd made it and not Daisy. She rather liked the way he made tea, though she'd never told him, not in all the time that had passed since Joe's acquittal had basically forced him to stay in Broadchurch.

“Fresh pot on the stove,” Daisy answered with a bit of a smile that died when she added, “he's in the shower. It'll be a bit.”

Ellie tried not to grimace. Hardy didn't talk, not to anyone, about what happened to him or his nightmares, but she had enough of an idea what he'd gone through to know exactly why him being in the shower was not a good sign.

Especially knowing what she was taking him to, but she couldn't ask anyone else to do it. He was their DI, formally approved despite the trauma and the pacemaker, and she didn't know that even if there was someone else to ask that she would.

He was too damned good at what they did, and more than that, more even than the dedication that had almost gotten him killed in the past, was the fact that he, of anyone in their office, would probably have more understanding of what their victim was dealing with right now.

She poured herself a tea and waited. Daisy stayed with her, but neither of them spoke. They didn't have much to say, since they'd talked over everything earlier when Daisy came round to prompt her father to dinner—Ellie swore that man wouldn't eat if his daughter didn't insist on him joining her for meals—leaving them standing around the kitchen in an awkward silence. Ellie couldn't tell her about the case—and she wouldn't, knowing that Daisy might not let her father out of the house if she did.

Hardy came in, hair still wet and plastered to his forehead, in a t-shirt and shorts instead of his usual suit. He stopped, staring at her. “Miller.”

“Got a call,” she said. “I stopped by to get you.”

He grunted, turning to leave. She saw him pulling off his shirt as he walked and belatedly wondered if he was the sort of man who used boxers as his undergarments and she'd just seen way too much, though she forced those thoughts out of her head. She wasn't interested, and it wasn't like he'd shown much of anything. He was just being efficient about changing, doing it as he walked.

“You have a cup I can put some of this in for him?” Ellie asked, turning to Daisy and holding up the tea pot. “He'll want it later when he's more coherent.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said, going to the cupboard and pulling one down. She gave it to Ellie to fill, and then winced. “We're out of milk. I meant to stop by after school and get some.”

“No worries. He'll live,” Ellie said, though she knew Hardy preferred his tea with milk, even when he microwaved it. “Thanks, Daize.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn.

“You might want to get yourself back to bed. I have a feeling we won't be back for the rest of the night,” Ellie admitted, and Daisy frowned. “I can't tell you more than that, but this is important, so please, just get some rest. You know he worries about how you'll do in school if he keeps you up at night.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, but she nodded, waiting just long enough to say goodbye to her father with a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back to her own room.

Ellie gestured to the door. “Shall we, sir?”

* * *

“What have we got?” Hardy asked as soon as Miller got in the car. She'd lagged behind him, and he didn't know why, but it was irritating, since they were in a hurry and he didn't have keys for her vehicle. He could fix that, but then she'd get all annoyed with him. Again.

She pulled away from the house he shared with Daisy, driving a bit before she answered him. He frowned, not liking the silence. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good, not when she was delaying in telling him. “Miller.”

“It's... an assault,” she answered, almost choking on the words, her eyes darting to his in the rear view mirror. “A... sexual assault.”

He frowned. He hadn't thought that was common around here, even for it being a tourist trap. He thought back to the Latimer case, her words about a few busts for possession and drunk driving, that this sort of thing didn't happen here, according to her.

“This your first?”

She grimaced. “More or less. I've gone through the training, but we don't really have that around here. You've been here long enough to know what it's like.”

He shrugged. “Haven't really lived through the tourist season. Latimer case killed it once, trial a second time. And the third...”

She bit her lip, but he didn't finish, not needing to discuss the second time her husband was on trial or why. Hardy did not want to revisit that, though it explained her hesitancy and the way she kept looking at him—God, he hated that one. He saw it enough when he was sick, making him glad Tess and Daisy were far away from him at the worst of it—like he might break.

“Do we know any details yet?”

“No,” Miller answered. “I just got the word that a woman had come in to make a report. Bob was waiting with her. Soon as I knew, I turned round to get you.”

He didn't comment on how late she'd stayed at work or wherever it was she'd been, since he hadn't lasted long in his attempt to sleep. He almost missed his dreams of Pippa and drowning in the river. Now he had others that left him not in a cold sweat but in desperate need of a shower.

His skin still didn't feel right.

“Do you have an evidence sheet?”

“What?” Miller asked, looking over at him.

“Sexual assault, Miller. This woman is our evidence. We need to take her over to the... the whatsit, and we can't afford to lose anything that might be on her,” Hardy said, swallowing and refusing to think about how he might have been taken there himself had he not needed immediate hospital care.

“Right. Of course. Yes, there's some in the back,” Miller said. She shook her head. “It's my first case of this kind, not my first day of work.”

“I didn't say it was.”

She nodded, turning her attention back to the road. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

“Excuse me?”

“I just... it might be difficult for you,” she said, grimacing. “After what Joe did—”

“It's not the same thing,” Hardy said. It wasn't, and he refused to be treated like it was. “Don't fuss about me. You focus on the case, or I will pull you off. Are we clear?”

She glared at him. “You're doing it again, you know. Lashing out because you're defensive.”

He didn't respond, turning to face the window. This wasn't about him. It wasn't about Joe Miller. The woman, whoever she was, this was her case. He wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of that.

Even if that meant taking himself off the case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Ellie meet the victim and begin the investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't intend to revisit every single scene in the show. Some of them would be hard to add to and definitely to improve, though there are moments and thoughts that should come across, plus a few relevant parts for the sake of the plot, but my intention was to carry Hardy's past from the one story into the series while also clearing up a few loose ends, changing a bit of plot, and overall adding to things in what I hope is a unique and while probably not better way, at least different enough to where it's worth reading but also can let the show speak for itself at times.
> 
> How well any of that is done is entirely debatable, and after noticing my inability to balance things in the other story I'm doing, I think I'm well over my head here, but I'm trying. That's what I do.

* * *

Ellie forced all thought of what her ex-husband had done to Hardy out of her head, trying to believe that he would be as fine as he insisted he was, or at least able to work despite the PTSD. Most of the time he coped with it as well as Hardy coped with anything, but most of the time they weren't working a sexual assault, and whether or not Hardy was willing to admit that was what he'd experienced—albeit to a lesser degree—it was what happened.

She took a breath, aware of Hardy opening the back of the car and preparing the seat as she approached Bob.

“Thanks for getting here so quick.”

She didn't know if that was a dig or not, since it had taken a bit for her to get Hardy out of his house, but not so long that anyone should be griping. They would have taken longer if he'd still been asleep.

“Why's she on the steps?”

“She came to report in person, but the desk was shut. She phoned one oh one from a payphone.”

Ellie winced. “Why didn't you take her in?” 

“She didn't want that.”

“What's her name?” Ellie asked, not sure why the woman would prefer to stay outside. A glance toward Hardy almost gave her an answer, his refusal to let anyone help him always coming to mind these days. Daisy got away with it more than most, but even she could get shut out by her father.

“Just got a first name. Trish.”

Ellie nodded. A first name was better than nothing. “Did she say anything else?”

He shook his head no, and she went over to talk to Trish, hoping she could do this right. All the training in the world hadn't prepared her for Danny, and she hadn't 

“Hi, Trish, is it?” Ellie began as she got close to the other woman. “My name's Ellie. I'm a detective with Wessex Police. You called about an attack? A sexual attack?”

The woman looked at her, giving nothing but a brief nod. Ellie thought she was in shock from the way she looked at her, not really seeing her, a tear going down her face.

“Okay,” Ellie said. “We want to take you a place where we can talk. It's just a short drive away. Is that all right?”

Trish nodded again, and Ellie held out a hand to help her to her feet, guiding her over to the car. She imagined that the other woman would be freezing in this wind and this late at night. She couldn't believe that Trish had been forced to wait outside.

“This is Alec, he works with me,” she said, introducing Hardy by the name he disliked but made him seem marginally more approachable. “This is Trish.”

“Trish, I've put an evidence sheet on the seat as a precaution. We only do this in case any evidence falls from your clothing,” he told her, being surprisingly gentle.

“It's nothing to worry about,” Ellie assured her, helping her into the car. Trish sat down numbly on the evidence sheet. Hardy closed the door behind her, and Ellie went around to take the seat on the other side. She didn't want Trish feeling alone right now.

They drove in silence, with Hardy's eyes now checking through the rearview mirror.

Ellie didn't know what kind of thoughts were going through Hardy's head right now, if he was reliving his own nightmares or just worrying about Trish's. Ellie wondered if Trish had known the man that did this—in a way, that made it easier for them, they just had to track him down and arrest him—though not for Trish. Not that it was any easier if it was a stranger, not for Trish, since she'd have to wonder who could have done this to her.

Poor woman. Ellie couldn't begin to imagine what this was like for her.

She didn't know if it would help that Hardy might be able to.

* * *

Hardy leaned against the wall, staring at the paint.

Blue. Solid blue. Not unlike water, like the sea one couldn't seem to get away from in Broadchurch, though not quite like the water of the river that had almost sucked him under with Pippa. He'd decided quickly that he hated the color, wanting to be anywhere but in this hallway, but their victim—Trish—was still in the bathroom.

He could only hope that she wasn't washing away evidence, though it wouldn't surprise him if she already had. He didn't know what he would have done if this part had taken place when he was conscious, if he hadn't been half dead from Joe Miller's actions and his faulty heart. He couldn't see himself going through everything Miller had done with Trish, the mouth swab and talking her into a urine sample.

No, he'd have probably tried to leave the hospital if he'd been awake enough to manage it. He wouldn't have cared about the evidence, even knowing that Joe had killed again. He wouldn't have wanted anyone knowing what had happened to him when he was alone with the bastard.

They'd all ended up knowing too much anyway.

He shifted positions, uncomfortably aware of his feet again. He'd already spent most of the day on them, working with Miller to find some local vandal that was harassing local businesses, the Echo in particular. Miller's nephew would have turned it into a hate crime if he had his way, but there was no real proof of that.

Still, it kept them busy and Hardy annoyed, though now he was reminded of his aching feet which somehow, inevitably, led to him remembering what Joe had done to his feet, and that was just the start of it. All the memories would come back if he wasn't careful, if he couldn't distract himself soon.

It didn't matter that he hadn't had sore feet that day. Things had been light, the most he'd done was say goodbye to Miller before getting in his cab. He hadn't paid enough attention to the driver, his mind on seeing his daughter and all that could go wrong with that—from Daisy not wanting to see him to what he would say if she actually did see him—and wondering what the hell Miller meant by her husband being 'dealt with.'

Joe Miller had not been 'dealt with,' and Hardy had found that out the hard way.

_“I bet you'd look years younger without that beard.”_

Hardy reached up, running a hand over his face involuntarily, needing the rough feel of his beard to chase away that memory. Damn it. He didn't need to relive that, either. He needed to get out of here, get some air, clear his head and find something else to think about, but he couldn't leave the woman in the bathroom.

And then Miller reappeared from her phone call.

“How's your dad?” Hardy asked, welcoming her return and the distraction she brought with her.

“Angry, as usual.”

“How long is he going to stay?”

“Don't know,” she said, smiling. “Still free childcare, though, eh?”

Hardy nodded, well aware of her need for it since her sister had left town again, possibly for good with a new man she'd met. Hardy doubted it would last, and he knew Miller did the same, but someone had to take care of the boys when she never seemed to want to go home.

“She still in there?”

Hardy nodded.

Miller grimaced. She gave him that look again, and he knew in a second she'd be asking it.

“I'm fine.”

“Sir—”

“You worry about Trish. She is your priority, the only thing that matters right now,” Hardy almost snapped, and just in time for the woman to come out of the loo, still looking bewildered and lost. Miller grimaced and led her into the other room so they could start the interview.

Hardy followed a bit behind, trying to prepare himself for what he might hear. None of it would be the same, but as he had learned over the course of his career, triggers could be found anywhere.

Sometimes everywhere.

* * *

Ellie let Hardy drive them back to Trish's house, figuring it was better if he was occupied doing something rather than sitting in the car after that interview. The poor woman hadn't been able to tell them much, and Ellie was worried about her. She couldn't help it. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to anyone, and not here, but Trish was living every woman's worst nightmare, and they couldn't even begin to help her, not when they knew so little.

She hoped there were lots of forensics, but she didn't know. They'd have to wait on that, but Ellie was worried about it and the bruises.

Especially since Hardy had noticed they were days old.

Neither of them believed Trish was lying, God no, but there was a lot missing from her story, and they had to find a way to get to it.

And Ellie had to wonder, every time Trish spoke, just what this was bring up for Hardy. No, he hadn't been hit like Trish, he'd been drugged, but he'd seen the marks on Trish's arms, and he'd had similar marks himself from where Joe had trussed him up.

God, she didn't know if he would make it through this case. She didn't even know if she would.

They led Trish into her house and sat down with her in the front room. Ellie watched her, hoping being home would be of some small comfort to Trish and help her to be able to talk. They needed to get as much information as they could if they were going to find this man—and they had to find him. Whoever he was he was not getting away with what he'd done to Trish.

And what if she wasn't the only woman he'd done this to?

Ellie didn't want to think about that.

Hardy started to push in his questions, annoying her because she swore he should be more sensitive to this after what he'd been through, but then he did lash out when he was on the defensive, and she'd have to watch that, make sure that he wasn't doing it to Trish during the investigation.

“Why don't you make us some tea, sir?” Ellie prodded, and he got quiet, going into the other room. She let him go, trying to make the awkward situation with Trish a little easier. “He makes really good tea, but don't tell him I said that.”

Trish managed something close to a smile at that.

Ellie smiled back. “I think he used to be a smoker and it's killed his tastebuds.”

That got a bit of a look, and Ellie wondered if maybe Trish was a smoker. Was that what she was doing when it happened? Could that have been part of it?

“This is a nice house,” Ellie told her. “We thought about moving out of town, me and my husband, that was, but I liked the location of our home. We had the field behind us, our good friends were just across the way, and we could even walk to the beach if we wanted.”

“Sounds nice,” Trish said. “We have a field behind us. I wanted that.”

Ellie tried to think of some other small talk to make, something to keep Trish talking but not spook her, not before she had the tea and they went back to darker subjects. She did have to ask some unpleasant questions, but she'd like to do it when Trish was more comfortable.

“Are all these photos of your family?”

Trish nodded, but she didn't offer any explanation for them, nothing at all. They fell back into silence, and Ellie had to wonder what the hell was keeping Hardy. She forced herself not to grimace and eventually excused herself to go get him.

“Maybe he can't figure out your stove,” Ellie said. “Some men are just bad in the kitchen, you know?”

Trish said nothing, and Ellie almost regretted leaving her alone, but she had to find Hardy.

* * *

Hardy had been in the middle of making tea when he was seized by a need to know if this was where it happened. The idea was to get this woman comfortable enough to talk, and they could have brought her right to where it happened.

He couldn't explain why she wouldn't have driven herself to the police station, but he remembered Miller's words about everyone reacting differently, which was a pointed statement if he'd ever heard one, needling him about his own close brush with this sort of thing. He didn't need her reminders. He had too many of his own.

He made his way through the other rooms, thinking about the date on the calendar. Maybe it wasn't here. This house gave him a sense of safety, and he'd noticed Trish seemed a bit calmer and more collected here, but then the SARC, for all it tried to be accommodating, was still a medical facility and so sterile that it would put anyone on edge, not that the reason they were there was ever something they could forget.

Still, the windows were secure, the door locks hadn't been tampered with, and there was a security system. The house seemed safe enough. If the attack happened here, then it was almost certainly no stranger.

They had to find out where it was, and they needed to know if it connected to that party on the calendar. And the phone. He'd seen her phone. She hadn't answered any calls or texts, probably in days. That fit with the date and the state of her bruises.

He walked outside, looking at the yard. There were places where someone could have waited and watched Trish, taking the first chance they could to get at her.

So, was it at the party, or was it here?

Was it a stranger or someone she knew?

He felt a sudden chill, having that sense that someone was watching him. He looked around, not seeing anyone in the field or the yard.

Still, that feeling lingered, and he couldn't shake it, staring out at the trees and trying to shut out voices from the past.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Miller investigate further, though people are concerned by his ability to handle this case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mostly left some of the case scenes out. I can't see how I add anything to them, and I don't want to detract from them as they were well done in the first place. However, I have made some changes to a few bits of the subplots, and since a major one was already set long before I started this with what happened in Understanding of the Dark, the arcs with Mark will be a lot different. I've also changed a few bits with others, as will be made clearer as the story goes on.

* * *

“How far away is this place?” Hardy asked as he got in on the passenger side of the car. He'd been subdued since he came in from Trish's yard—though he'd pushed a bit hard with Trish, again, trying to get at more details. Ellie was still annoyed with the way he'd asked about the party and why she hadn't reported it right away.

“Five minute drive,” Ellie answered as she buckled her seatbelt. She pulled away from Trish's house, starting toward Axehampton. She'd been there once, she thought, but it was a long time back, someone's going away party or graduation, but she didn't remember it well, and it had been years. She'd have to familiarize herself with it all over again. “She said the attack took place near water.”

“You think she meant the sea?” Hardy asked, frowning. 

“I dunno,” Ellie admitted. She didn't know. So far this case was as confusing as it was heartbreaking. She believed Trish, but that poor woman was so traumatized she couldn't be much help. She wasn't trying to hold back, not on purpose, but she was all the same. Not that Ellie blamed her, she didn't. She couldn't imagine she would be that different if it was her. 

“Why say 'water' and not 'waves' or 'sea?'” Hardy asked, shaking his head. “Why did she wait, Miller? Why did she not report it sooner? Why did she come home?”

“Everyone responds differently,” Ellie reminded him, not for the first time. 

“We've already lost,” Hardy let out a breath, grimacing, “sixty hours? If the attack happened at the party, that's a long list of people to interview and eliminate—and the attacker's still out there—”

Ellie's phone cut him off, and she pressed the button on the steering wheel that allowed her to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Ellie?” Trish asked, sounding worried, and Ellie winced. She not only felt for the other woman, but she knew she was about to get a lecture as soon as Trish was off the phone. 

“Trish?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay, Trish?” Ellie asked, concerned. If Trish felt the need to call already, this couldn't be good. Or maybe she'd remembered something she could tell them that might help.

“Yeah,” Trish said, sounding a little doubtful and then more confident with a repeated, “Yeah. I... I was checking this number worked. I've locked all the doors and the windows.” 

“Great,” Ellie told her, feeling Hardy's eyes on her. She ignored it. “Try and rest.”

“Right.” Trish didn't sound like she felt she could, and Ellie couldn't blame her for that feeling. She didn't know that she'd sleep again after something like that. Hardy certainly didn't. 

“Look, you've got the panic alarm. Don't be afraid to use it,” Ellie told her, trying to be reassuring. Then she added something she knew would set Hardy off. “And you can call me any time.” 

“How am I gonna tell my daughter?” 

Ellie winced. She didn't know. She couldn't think of any good way to say it, and she wished she could, that there was _some_ way of making this even the slightest bit easier for her, but there wasn't. There just... wasn't. “Look, try not to think of that for now. We're gonna take all this one step at a time and there'll be plenty of us around to support you.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Trish said, far from reassured. 

Ellie didn't know that she could say anything that would reassure her, so she didn't try and prolong it, especially not with Hardy glaring at her from across the car. “Okay. Bye, Trish.”

It didn't even take him a minute.

“You gave her your number.” 

“Oh, don't start,” she muttered, but he kept on glaring at her. She fidgeted in spite of herself. “So what? Yes, I did.”

“Your personal number,” he said, frustration clear in his voice, dismay on his face, like he couldn't believe she'd done it again. “What have I told you?”

She didn't care what he'd said. She knew she'd done the right thing for Trish. “She needed it.” 

“Every time,” Hardy grumbled like that was a curse.

She glared at him. “Pardon me for being human.” 

“We investigate,” he insisted. “Support services support.”

“Support services aren't there.”

He shook his head. “That's not the point. You can't do this.”

“Once before.” 

“Twice before,” he corrected, and she knew he was right, not that she wanted to admit that. 

“Oh, are you keeping count?” 

“Yes.” 

“If I'm so annoying, why do you keep working with me?” Ellie countered. “You're always having a pop, and _you_ were the one that wanted me to come back to Broadchurch. You pushed for that, remember? I was going to keep working in Devon, but someone said he wanted me back and wouldn't let anyone else have my bloody job.” 

Ignoring all of that, like Ellie knew he would, since acknowledging it would mean he cared or that he felt he needed her after his abduction, he shook his head, falling back on the rules again.

“There's a protocol.” 

“I did not miss this,” Ellie muttered, sometimes wondering why she still worked with him, but then she knew. He was good at what he did, and she still blamed herself for Joe being free to torment him the way he had. “The constant berating.”

“She can't ring you all the time.”

“She's been _raped,”_ Ellie snapped, losing her temper. “I would think _you,_ of all people, would understand what she's going through, would be patient and kind to her.”

Hardy set his jaw and looked out the window, saying nothing for the rest of the drive.

* * *

“You sure about this, Maggie?” Mark asked, adjusting the wrench. “I mean, this isn't the first time you've called me out here this this month, and it seems a bit strange, is all. One pipe is odd enough, but two going bad so fast?”

She shrugged, leaning against the wall. He probably thought she was asking him to do this out of a misguided sense of charity, but that wasn't true. She hadn't wanted to call a plumber for the second time in a month, but that didn't mean that she didn't have to, or that she didn't know something around here was wrong.

She wasn't the only shop on the high street getting vandalized, but that didn't mean that she was able to do much about it. She'd spoken to the police, and she knew that she hadn't gotten the brush-off this time, not from Ellie Miller or DI Hardy, though he was looking worse for wear again.

Not that anyone could blame him, since Joe Miller's second trial had been almost as disastrous as his first, even if Sharon Bishop wasn't representing the man that time.

“All I know is I've got a leak, and I need it fixed,” Maggie told him, though she suspected the vandals had actually gotten inside the Echo building this time, and she didn't like it. She knew that Susan Wright had come in once, late at night, and she'd threatened her, but after that, Maggie had done something about her security. This shouldn't be happening now.

“I'm just about done,” Mark told her. “Won't be but a few minutes.”

“Good.”

“Suppose we could call this an even trade,” he went on. “My ad for your repairs. That sound about fair to you?”

He was late on the check for that again, but she wasn't surprised by that. She knew he had his ups and downs, struggling to keep the business going after Danny died and the trial ruined their lives. Nothing was ever quite the same after that, even if Joe Miller hadn't walked completely free.

Not that what he'd done to Hardy was any better, but at least it had led to another arrest.

Maggie knew Beth had done her best to move on, choosing to work with sexual assault victims as her way of honoring her son, who had more or less been a victim of that sort of violence. Mark hadn't found that path. He kept plugging away at his job as a plumber, but he wasn't always up to it, and Maggie heard Nigel was still doing the majority of the work there.

She wanted to help, but she couldn't bring Danny back, and that seemed to be the only true fix for what ailed Mark Latimer. She'd suggested writing a book about him and Danny, and he'd agreed to it only to back out a few weeks later.

She didn't know what else she could do, but she was fielding work his way when she could.

That wasn't nearly enough, but then nothing was.

* * *

“Trish Winterman of West Flintcombe has made an allegation of rape against an unknown attacker,” Hardy began, addressing his team. He didn't want to do this, and he was still irritated by the way things had gone at Axehampton house and later at the farm shop. Mostly it was Dirty Brian and finding out they called him Shitface. He wasn't the most well-liked man in the universe, but he hadn't even known that was going on back when he first worked the Latimer case, and he didn't like that at all.

He realized the others were still watching him and grimaced. 

“Er, the incident is alleged to have taken place at Axehampton House on Saturday night,” Hardy continued. “She was attending a party thrown by Cath and Jim Atwood. She was knocked unconscious somewhere within the grounds and was raped, possibly close to the lake. It's unclear whether her attacker was known to her. Myself and DS Miller took her to the SARC in Poole last night. We're awaiting preliminary forensics and SOCO are starting work at the scene now.” 

All of the other officers scribbled down notes. He noticed the new one—what was the name? Hartman? Hangman? He didn't remember, just knew she was irritating and had already gotten under Miller's skin, perhaps more than he did—looking at him in that way she did, like she was about to solve a case in an instant. She hadn't yet, but he supposed she might surprise him yet.

“When did she report this?”

“Last night.” 

Harrigan frowned. “But the attack happened on Saturday. It's a bit of a gap. Are we sure she's genuine?” 

Miller gave the other woman her patented stare of disapproval. “When you've completed your sexual offenses training, Katie, you'll understand we start from a position of believing the victim.”

The DC didn't seem to want to accept that, not for a second. “Sure, but—” 

“Given the injuries, the details of her account, matching facts at the possible scene and an assessment of her emotional state, we're working on the assumption it's genuine,” Miller insisted, looking like she'd like to smack her, and the others a bit like they wanted tickets for that.

Hardy considered giving the woman a further bollocking. “This is why this type of crime goes unreported. Do you understand that?”

“I was just asking the question,” the woman said, defensive. 

“All right, you're new,” Miller told her with a tight smile that was anything but genuine. “We forgive you.” 

He hadn't, not that he would. He didn't like these kinds of crimes, they bothered him even before the incident with Joe Miller. He didn't understand the sex crimes, why anyone would feel the need to do that, how they could justify it. Murder seemed simple in comparison. 

“As of yet, we've made no public statement. The chief super is aware,” Hardy said, looking back to see that yes, she was in fact in the room. He didn't like that much, since she'd already had the discussion she wanted to have with him and knew all this already. She didn't need to be watching this part unless she distrusted him. And she did, that much was clear. “Once we've got initial forensics, we'll make a call on the risk to public safety. In the meantime, not a word gets out.”

He still remembered the Latimer death reaching twitter, and he knew that most of the office did, too. Miller barely hid her grimace before the chief super waved her over to her side. Hardy pretended not to notice, even if he had a good idea what this was all about.

“We will be getting a list of guests at the party Saturday night,” he went on, looking around at his team. “I want detailed information on Trish Winterman, her friends Jim and Cath Atwood, and her employer, Ed Burnett. Every bit of background helps, need to know who might have been connected to her and why. You'll all have further duties as the case progresses, but get started on that. Now.”

He gave Miller and the CS another glance before he went back into his office, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, letting out a breath.

Was this how it was going to be the entire time? The CS watching over him, making sure he didn't make any mistakes? That he wasn't going to break because someone else had been hurt? This wasn't about him, damn it. This was about Trish Winterman. She was the one who had been attacked, and that attacker was still out there.

He didn't need someone watching over him, getting in his way. He was going to find this man. He didn't care what it took. No rapist was going free, not when Hardy could stop it.

* * *

“How is he doing?”

Ellie forced herself not to look back at Hardy. She would have thought this would have waited until later, to be done in a private office, not out where everyone could see them. That new one, Hartford, she was probably the one Ellie could feel staring at them, even if she didn't think a lip reader could see what they were saying from here, not when Ellie had a good couple inches on her boss and was blocking her from the others.

“You heard him yourself,” Ellie said, frowning. Wasn't it early to be doubting Hardy's capability? Or was this the new CS' idea of being proactive about things, wanting to pull him right now if it looked like this case would be too much for him.

“I saw him, yes.”

“That bit at the beginning was nothing,” Ellie said. “He's not a public speaker. He's not a speaker, period.”

“Ellie,” the other woman began, “we can't afford to have him distracted during a case like this. We need everything from everyone we have on it. I need to know that he can handle this given what he went through before.”

Ellie tried not to grimace. She'd been watching for that already, for any sign that it was too much for him, and while he was maybe a little grumpier and more distant than usual, she hadn't really seen it. She wasn't sure it had hit him yet, what he was really investigating, or maybe he was just better at hiding it than she would have thought.

Or he was as fine with this as he pretended to be, not just going through the motions but actually far less affected than they all assumed he would be. She didn't know, not for sure.

“I haven't seen anything yet.”

“You'll keep me informed, though,” the CS said. “If at any time he seems incapable—”

“I'll tell you if there's a problem,” Ellie assured her, though as soon as she said it, she wondered if she was lying. She wasn't going to get Hardy pulled for any minor infraction, no. Half their staff had moved on after Danny's death, looking for better prospects or not wanting to be tainted by that case, and he was still the most qualified officer in the building, even in some respects more qualified than the woman standing in front of her giving her orders.

No, Hardy was staying on this case unless Ellie was absolutely sure he couldn't handle it.

She just hoped she was right about his ability to cope and he wouldn't destroy himself trying to find the man that did this to Trish same way he'd almost killed himself looking for Danny's killer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues, and things get more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to include the changes I've made to the subplots as much as possible, which is why we're seeing Maggie. I didn't much care for the whole closing the paper plot, and I think her doing an investigation of her own is a much better way to showcase a reporter, right? And I've altered Daisy's bit some, and Tom's as well as Paul's, though the last two haven't made their way in yet. I think I can improve on some of them, but where I'm faltering a little is in Mark's, as he had a very powerful downward spiral that I can't see him making when Joe didn't get away in the same sense in this world.
> 
> I also included a bit of Chloe & Daisy friendship. For some reason, it always seems to be my headcanon that they become fast and lifelong friends. 
> 
> And all recognizable parts belong to the show, naturally. I just changed bits and pieces.

* * *

“You don't mind, do you?” Daisy asked, looking over at Chloe, who shook her head. She hated having to ask, but her father never came home the night before, and she couldn't help worrying about him, even if he was a grown man supposedly capable of taking care of himself. She couldn't forget what it was like when he disappeared, abducted by Ellie's husband, and Daisy knew she'd never quite feel like he was safe again, even if he'd come out of that nightmare more or less okay.

“I don't,” Chloe answered. “Promise I don't. It's totally okay.”

Daisy nodded, wishing she felt easier about any of this. She knew that her father thought there was a bit more to the vandalism that had been going on for a while, but this new case was bigger than that, she already knew that even if she didn't know what it was.

“It's almost on our way anyway,” Chloe said. “Waiting a few minutes to check in with your father is not a problem, Daize. Why would you think it was?”

Daisy grimaced. “Before I moved down here, most people thought I was a little weird for checking on him every day. Especially since we barely talked the first time he left Sandbrook. My friends didn't get it.”

Chloe snorted. “Your friends weren't really friends, then. Parents can be... shit, really, but in the end, they're still family. It made me sick, knowing my dad was flirting up Becca Fisher, knowing he slept with her when my brother died, but he's still my dad. I still love him. And your dad... I kind of owe your dad, seeing as he found out who killed my brother and then... well... if not for him, Joe Miller would still be out there somewhere, free. He got off the first time. It's only because he went after your dad that he isn't out there, somewhere, driving us all crazy because he got away with killing my brother.”

Daisy winced, not wanting to think about it. She knew that most of Broadchurch, even if they didn't like her father personally, still saw him as the reason Joe Miller hadn't gotten off without any punishment, but she still wished her father hadn't had to suffer to make that possible.

And she still hated Sharon Bishop and that other lawyer for making it possible for Joe Miller to walk free in the first place. Without them, her father would never have been hurt like he was.

“This is a live situation,” Daisy heard her father's voice and looked back to see him coming closer to them. “Prioritize this one. We absolutely cannot afford to wait. Preliminary results, whatever you can tell me, soon as you can, thank you.” 

“Sorry,” he apologized as he got closer to her. He stopped to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Didn't mean to keep you waiting.”

“It's fine,” she told him, knowing she would have waited all night to be sure he was okay, and now that she had seen him with her own eyes, she could relax some. “How's the new case? Can you talk about it yet?”

He shook his head. “No. Sorry. How's the homework?”

“All done,” she said with a smile, and Chloe nodded in agreement. “We were going to hang out with some of Chloe's friends over at one of their houses.”

Her father frowned. “Do I know these friends?”

“Relax, Mr. Hardy. They're not anyone you've arrested or threatened to arrest,” Chloe said with a grin. “It'll be fine.”

“I'll be back by ten,” Daisy promised. “You'll still be at work, anyway.” 

“Okay,” he told her. “Just make sure you all stick together. All right. Don't walk home alone if it's after dark. Call me if it gets late. I'll give you a lift. I won't mind.” 

Daisy exchanged a worried glance with Chloe, who was also frowning. “Dad, what's going on?”

“Just be careful, okay?” he urged, giving her arm a slight squeeze. “Don't mention this to your mates. Well, any of your other mates.” 

“I won't,” she muttered, shaking her head at him. “Thanks for freaking me out.” 

“You're welcome.”

Daisy stood there, watching him go back inside. Chloe turned to her, shivering. “What do you suppose he meant by that? Another murder?”

“I hope not.”

* * *

Ellie thought over what Trish had told her on the phone, still bothered by it as she drove. She knew it was important, too important to wait, to sit on. She could use that as a partial justification for giving Trish her number, though she hoped that Trish would have support soon. A selfish part of her hoped that it would be Beth who got her case, since she didn't know that anyone could do better than Beth. No, she was almost certain Beth was the right person for Trish, but she'd have to wait and see how that went, not bother her about it.  
She chose to bother someone else instead, almost certain that he would be awake now, and she didn't even bother calling in advance. He would be up, not one to sleep on the best of nights, and this was not one of them.

She parked her car in front of Hardy's house and walked up to the door, knocking on it even as he started toward her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I was passing, saw your light on.” 

“What? Halfway up a hill, at two in the morning?” Hardy asked, giving her a look to ask her if she thought he was stupid enough to fall for that, which of course he wasn't and she didn't think he was. 

“I was hoping you'd still be awake,” she told him. “Don't be a twat about it. Trish called me and told me her attacker put something in her mouth to gag her.” 

He didn't seem angry about that, not like she would have thought, so maybe their earlier conversation about the number thing had gotten through to him. Or he was just tired. “Yeah. I just got initial forensics.” 

She almost flinched, a bit afraid of what he was about to tell her. “And?” 

“Cloth fibers found in her mouth swabs confirms what she's told you. They also found traces of blue fisherman's twine in her wrist wounds where he tied her up,” Hardy reported, the recitation matter of fact but still horrible all the same. “And her attacker definitely used a condom when he raped her.”

“Oh, God,” Ellie whispered, knowing what this meant. 

“I have to make this a gold incident, Miller. This wasn't opportunistic; it was planned and premeditated. Trish's attacker went to that party intending to commit rape. Which means we have a sexual predator who is a danger to the public.”

Ellie winced. They'd been afraid of this, but now they knew for sure, and that made it worse. “All right. How do we stop him? What's our next step?”

Hardy frowned. “Go home. Go to sleep. We can't start on most of the rest of it until morning anyhow.”

“Like I could sleep after that. And you're not going to,” she said. “Is Daisy awake? Does she know?”

He shook his head. “She asked if she could stay over at Chloe's, and I let her. Thought that was best. Regret it some now, but it's not like I'm calling her up to drag her home in the middle of the night.”

Ellie nodded. “Move out of the way, then. I'll make us a cuppa, and we'll figure out our next step.”

“You don't have to babysit me for the CS, you know.”

She snorted. “I'm not doing any such thing, Hardy. If I thought you were going to muck this up, I'd have had her pull your ass off it already. I happen to believe you're the best person for this right now, that we're the best people, you and me together, and we're going to get this done. We're going to find the man who attacked Trish and make sure he pays for this.”

“You're scared,” he observed, moving out of her way.

She blinked. “What makes you say that?”

“You're being nice to me.”

* * *

Hardy carried two cups in his hands as he made his way down to the waterfall. He didn't remember falling asleep earlier, but he must have, on the couch next to Miller while they were still working. He'd woken in a blind panic to find her gone, which was something of a relief. He didn't like having witnesses to his nightmares, and he had to go in on his own to brief the CS again.

That meeting was another thing that shouldn't have witnesses, though he figured some people had heard a few angry, indistinct words through the glass.

“How long you been here?” Hardy asked, passing Miller her cup. She took it and sipped from it before she answered. 

“An hour or two. I wanted to familiarize myself with the scene before the gold meeting,” she said, pausing for another sip. “I've walked the path from here to the house. There are plenty of places her attacker could have hid in but, because of the rains last week, it's all muddy. So whoever did move her here they'd have plenty of mud on their clothes and shoes. I'm hoping these guys get some good footprints. How many extra officers have we got?” 

He grimaced. That was another reason he'd lost his temper in the chief super's office. He'd wanted to scream a hell of a lot more than he had, but he'd been forced to restrain himself as soon as she said she would pull him if he didn't.

That was horseshit. The whole thing was.

“Two DCs.” 

“What, that's it?” Miller asked, frowning. “We need more than that.” 

“Sexual offenses never get the same resources as murder,” he repeated in a dull tone. “The chief super told me I was lucky to get two.” 

“For God's sake,” Miller muttered. “They know how many potential suspects we've got. How do they expect us to move quickly with a small team?”

He didn't answer that. They both knew what the expectation was. Either this case was going to be solved against the odds like a bloody miracle, or it would fade into quiet obscurity the way too many of them did. He hated this sort of thing. He hated even more that he was already being second guessed by his superior after less than a full day on the case.

“What did you say to her?”

“You think it's my fault?”

Miller sighed. “No. I didn't say that. I didn't mean it. I just... she already expressed some concerns about you working this case, and I didn't want that to be the reason why she didn't give us more resources.”

He shook his head. “If I thought it would make a difference, I'd recuse myself. You know that.”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Did you get any sleep?” 

“Not really.”

* * *

“You okay?” Chloe asked, sitting down next to her friend on the steps. She'd been waiting to have a chance to talk to Daisy since before school started, not sure she wanted to do it in the house where her mum might overhear. Not that she was nosy, but the walls were thin, she knew that much from her parents arguing.

Daisy shook her head. “Not really.”

Chloe grimaced. “I know your dad gave us that big scary speech, but we were with my friends. Nothing bad should have happened.”

Daisy nodded. “I know. I wouldn't have gone there if I didn't think it was safe, but the more I think about it, the more worried I am about that last hour we were there, the part I don't remember very well. I don't want to think anything happened, but I know I had too much to drink.”

So had Chloe, and she knew it. The last bit of the night was just as much of a blur for her as it was for Daisy. She hadn't found any bruises, her clothes were still intact, all of her stuff was in her bag, and it seemed like things were fine.

She was just missing like a half an hour of the night, and it felt strange to know that, but the last thing she remembered was right about nine thirty, and the rest was gone until after they were back at her house after ten.

“Did you find anything missing? Any... marks?”

Daisy shook her head. “I'm pretty sure it wasn't like that. I mean, I kind of know what my father would look for, but something feels wrong, and it doesn't help that Dad gave us that warning right before we went there.”

“So, we won't go there again,” Chloe said. “I'm sorry. I swear I didn't know it was going to be like that. It's never been that way before, and I trusted them.”

“I didn't say I blamed you. We don't even know that anything happened,” Daisy said. “I guess that's the worst part, isn't it? Not being sure.”

“We could ask the others.”

Daisy pulled her knees up against her chest. “I don't want to, don't want them knowing I don't know. We don't know what they'll tell us or if it will be true. And my dad cannot know. Ever. Like, ever. He'd be so mad at me.”

Chloe nodded. Her parents would be mad, too, if they knew anything about this. Her dad would probably believe that she was to blame, leading Daisy into that, though Chloe swore that things had never been this bad before. She hadn't even gotten that drunk when Danny died. She swore neither of them had that much, but something went wrong with that last drink.

“It's going to be okay, Daisy,” Chloe told her. “We'll figure something out. And we're not doing that again.”

Daisy nodded. “Yeah.”

* * *

“I don't understand,” the shopkeeper said, shaking her head. “Who does this sort of thing?”

Maggie wasn't sure. She thought that most of the time this sort of vandalism was part of tourist season, one of the irritating things they put up with to make a living, but she'd have to consult the back records of the police blotter to be know for certain.

“Did you call the police?”

“I got told someone would be round over an hour ago,” the other woman muttered, disgusted. “I swear, it's like that man doesn't take us seriously. We're not worth his time.”

Maggie frowned. She admitted that she'd gotten the brush off before, from Ellie Miller in the middle of that murder investigation, but Hardy had been rather dedicated when it came to the vandalism she'd reported. She hadn't called about yesterday's pipe incident because she didn't have any proof, but maybe she should have.

“I've dealt with him twice before, and he was very prompt,” Maggie said. Her mobile rang, and she dug it out of her pocket, putting it to her ear. “Yes, petal, what can I do for you?”

“Not call me petal again, ever,” Hardy's voice said over the line. “There will be a press conference later today. I don't want your protege there, are we clear?”

“You're not exactly in a position to make demands,” Maggie reminded him. Not that she hadn't used up most of her blackmail—his heart condition was public knowledge, though she'd sat on some of the stuff from Joe Miller's second trial, believing that the publishing it served no purpose. “You know that, don't you?”

“The reporting on this case will not go through Miller's nephew. I don't want his bloody twitter feed disrupting this case or another family's lives. You'll understand at the briefing. This is just a courtesy call. Don't make me regret trusting you.”

Maggie knew, in an instant, that this was not about the vandalism. She nodded. “I'll be there myself. Is there anything new on the vandalism case?”

She heard him swear on the other end. “Not now.”

He hung up, and she grimaced, wondering if she was going to have to take over this investigation herself, too. “You have CCTV?”

The shopkeeper snorted. “Yeah, and I've won the blooming lottery, have I? I can't afford that. None of us can. We're barely hanging on here. Tourism has been down since Danny Latimer was killed, and that damned Joe Miller just made it worse.”

Maggie nodded, well aware of how much the tourism numbers were down. She'd done a report on it just last week. They'd had several shops leave the high street even before Danny died, and then the rough years had forced Becca to sell up the Trader's for less than it was worth. She was gone, and with no inn, tourism was in even a worse position than before, since who wanted to stay out of town to go to a beach, even if it might be cheaper?

“I'm sure the police will be by soon,” Maggie told her, deciding she was going to send Olly out to do some more digging on the vandals. She figured that would keep him busy and well away from whatever it was Hardy was looking into now.

She just hoped it wasn't another murder.

* * *

“Who were you on the phone with?” Miller asked, and Hardy gave her a look. He wasn't about to discuss that call with her. He knew he was taking a risk in calling Maggie Radcliffe to head off Olly Stevens, but he didn't want a rape case handled by someone like him. He hadn't been sensitive enough to keep Danny Latimer's name to himself, and God only knew what an idiot like him would do to someone like Trish Winterman.

Hell, the Echo's reporting on the trial had been a nightmare, both trials. The second one hadn't had live twitter because they'd lobbied to keep the press out of the courtroom, but that hadn't made it much better. Hardy had wanted to kill the little shit anyway after what he'd written online, and he might have done it if he'd been in a better state at the time.

“I don't want a steer from Beth, I want her to help us get Trish Winterman's interview done as a matter of urgency.”

Miller shook her head. “No, you can't do that. Not only are you avoiding my question, but you know the state Trish is in. Leave it one or two more days.”

She was asking the impossible of him, and she should know that. “Can't be done. There's too much at risk.” 

“That ABE interview is Trish's main videoed evidence in court, if the case gets that far,” Miller reminded him, as if he needed a reminder. He didn't. He'd worked enough assault cases, and even if he hadn't, they'd wanted to do one of them with him. “And, if she makes a mistake or her memory's hazy, it causes massive problems.” 

He snorted. “So we wait, we delay getting a crucial piece of information, and another woman is attacked?” 

“That is not Trish's responsibility, and you can't make it hers like that. This is not on her.” 

“No. It's on me. It's _my_ responsibility,” he insisted, almost losing his temper with her. God, didn't she understand what they were up against? They'd lost valuable time already, they were short-staffed and losing ground by the second, all the while a predator was out there, possibly planning an attack on another woman. They didn't even know for sure that Trish was this man's first victim, only that she was the first to report it to them. “I've got to weigh up the risk to Trish's evidence against the safety of other members of the public.” 

“Are you sure you're the right person to be making that call?”

He stared at her. “Is that it, then, Miller? You want me off this case?”

“No, I want you to treat Trish the way you would have wanted to be treated when you were on the other side of this. Give her the same consideration.”

“This isn't the same,” he said. “We knew who was behind the attack on me. He was arrested same day I was found. Trish's attacker is still out there. He could hurt dozens of other women and we might _never_ know.”

“There has to be another way,” Miller said. “One where we can protect her and the public. It doesn't help us if he gets off at trial. That's another thing you know better than anyone.”

He glared at her. “You want to start talking blame, do you? Because you know where the fault lies in Joe getting off the first time, don't you? Why was the confession thrown out? Who gave her sister money in exchange for evidence?”

Miller balled her fists, looking like she wanted to hit him. “You bastard.”

He'd won, not that he was proud of the victory, and not that it was a true one, since mostly he blamed himself for what had happened in Miller's husband walking free. He just knew he could twist her guilt, and in his anger, he had. 

“Brief Beth,” he told her. “She's got to get Trish in a fit state. We've got to get to what she knows as soon as we can.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie talks to Beth, they see Trish, and further complications arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a lot of changes to the meeting between Beth and Ellie. In part that's because of the fight in the last chapter but it's also because of the different plot that Tom will have. I haven't worked that all in yet. I've done some hinting at stuff to come for Paul, but I still have a bit to go before I get all my subplots up and running. 
> 
> And, boy, was that scene with Beth and Ellie difficult. I threw out two versions of it and had to rewrite the third a lot.

* * *

“Have you been crying?”

“No.”

“Liar,” Beth said, shaking her head. She knew Ellie well enough to know the difference between her friend's face before and after tears. Ellie had definitely been crying, though she'd tried to hide it. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Again, liar,” Beth said. “Come on. You asked to meet me for a reason, and you wanted to do it out here, which is odd enough, but since you've been crying, I guess I could see it. What is it you don't want everyone knowing? Because if this is about one of my clients, you know I can't—”

“It is, but it isn't,” Ellie said, sighing. She looked out at the distance. “Bloody Hardy. He is such a knob. It's not like I don't feel for him, and I think everyone's worried about him right now, but instead of accepting that, he's got to be a complete bastard.”

“El, you're not exactly making sense,” Beth began. She knew Hardy was a difficult man to work with, and she'd heard Ellie complain before, but she didn't understand what this had to do with a client and why Hardy's behavior was any sort of surprise to Ellie by now. She'd worked with the man for long enough, even chose to go back to Wessex when she knew she'd be working for him again.

“I tried to tell him that Trish wasn't ready to give her interview—”

“You and Hardy have Trish's case?” Beth interrupted, grimacing. That would make things difficult. “I haven't even met her yet. You're sure he's going to insist on her doing it?”

“Yes,” Ellie answered. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sounding close to tears again. “I think he's convinced that this guy has already raped other women and will rape more. He doesn't have proof, just his instincts, but I can't say if they're being swayed by what he went through or not. What you would think would make him more sensitive only makes him more impossible to work with, since he keeps lashing out at whoever's closest, which is usually me.”

Beth winced, leaning her head back against the shack. “Ellie...”

“He hasn't forgiven me for getting the confession thrown out. It's not like I meant to, God knows the last thing I wanted was Danny's killer going free, even if he had been my husband once. The man I loved didn't even exist, and I could kill Joe for what he did. To Danny. To you. To me and the boys. I didn't want Joe walking free. And to know that he not only did, but he killed again.” Ellie put her head in her hands. “He killed someone, and he abducted Hardy. He did things to him that I never thought Joe was capable of, but when I think about... I replay Hardy's testimony in my head sometimes. I don't mean to, it just happens, and I know... not only would Joe have killed him, but he would have—”

“Ellie, don't do this to yourself,” Beth said, touching her friend's back. “I know, coming from me, it's hard to believe, since I blamed you for so long, but I know I was wrong. I know you didn't know about Joe. And you did what any one of us would have done if we could have, kicked the shit out of Joe after knowing what he did. I wanted to kill him there in that hut. I have times where I wonder if maybe we should have. Then that cab driver would still be alive.”

Ellie looked back at her. “You really are amazing. Not just for forgiving me, but for choosing to do this job you do.”

Beth snorted. “Now you're just trying to butter me up.”

“No, I'm being honest,” Ellie insisted. “I'm so proud of you, Beth. I don't think I've done half so well since I found out about Joe. I feel like I'm messing up with the boys, I can't deal with my father, I could strangle Lucy again, gladly, and I try to do what I can to help Daisy because I know it's my fault her father's such a mess. It's not enough. Work is the only place I feel even half good at something.”

Beth shook her head. “No, you're doing just fine. We can't measure our recoveries against anyone else's, and you are not to blame for what Joe did to Hardy. I'm not saying don't help Daisy because we all want to, she's a sweetheart—she and Chloe remind me a bit of the two of us, how close they got so fast—but don't make that burden all yours. Hardy could have more support if he wanted.”

Ellie sat up, taking in a breath and letting it out again. “How many clients have you worked with that are men?”

“Ellie, that's not—”

“I don't actually want you to tell me. It's just, even here, even with what happened to Danny, I sometimes think that people don't even see it as a crime that can happen to a man. It's a woman's problem, and I'm not saying it isn't. We're the ones that have to fear it most, but I think Hardy doesn't even think he can acknowledge it as what it was because everyone has this attitude that it doesn't happen to men. I think he thinks his only option is to bury it down and pretend it didn't happen, but since Joe was such a bastard and put us all through another trial, everyone knows,” Ellie said. “That cannot happen to Trish. I won't let it. Not that she's the same, no, but she already asked us if we believed her, and we do, but we're so far behind, and Hardy is being unreasonable...”

“Do you think he can't handle this case?”

Ellie leaned her head back. “He's still a good cop, Beth. I haven't seen him do anything that would jeopardize the case, or I'd have suggested he assign someone else. I don't know who could do it—I'm the most experienced besides him, and I've never worked a case like this before. He has. I know that's affecting him, too, but so far... he's just grumpier than usual.”

“Only he's rushing Trish's interview.”

“Yeah. I know she's not ready, but he's thinking more about other potential victims and stopping this guy before he does it again.”

Beth studied her. “What about you, Ellie? Do you think this guy is going to do it again?”

Ellie winced, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I do.”

* * *

Ellie checked her phone, not sure she wanted to take this call, even if it was important. She knew what Beth was going to tell her, and she knew Hardy wasn't going to listen to it. She wanted him to, but she knew his mind was already made up, and she didn't think she could change it.

“Beth?”

“You're right,” Beth said. “I don't think she'll be ready today.”

Ellie grimaced. That she'd expected, and she knew it was coming, but she also knew it wasn't going to be up to either of them. She glanced toward Hardy, seeing him tear up the paper with the press release the department was supposed to approve later. Ellie wasn't sure if they'd be putting him on the telly again or not, but she hoped they wouldn't. He did not need that on top of everything else.

He held up the paper, and Ellie nodded. They needed to tell Trish about this before it happened. No blindsiding by twitter this time, not if she could help it.

“Can you hold her there?” Ellie asked, moving toward her car. “We'll come by now and have a quick word.”

She barely heard Beth agree before she thanked her and hung up. She put her phone in her pocket and got behind the wheel, buckling herself in. “You know, I don't know if we should be pushing, if Beth says she's not ready.”

“Beth Latimer is not in charge here,” he reminded her. “This isn't her decision to make.”

“I know that, but I'm a bit concerned that you're not making the right one,” Ellie told him, and he gave her a look. “I know. I say that a lot with you. That's not the point. The point is that what you went through could be clouding your judgment and—”

“Again, Miller? You want to do this again?” Hardy asked. “No. You have a complaint to make, you do it in writing to the chief super.”

Ellie sighed. “I'm allowed to have an opinion, and I'm not going to stop telling you what it is just because it annoys you. That's never been how that works with us, and it's not now.”

He shook his head. “This is not about me. It is about Trish, but it's about more than her. That's what you have to remember when you're in my position, and you should hope you never have to make this sort of call.”

“No, you're right, I don't want to,” she agreed. “I just don't think you want to acknowledge what this could do to Trish or her case.” 

He glared at her again, shaking his head as he looked back out the other window, saying nothing more for the rest of the drive. Ellie drove on in silence, not wanting to start another argument. She'd done what she could, tried to hold him off, but short of going to the CS and telling her to take him off the case, she couldn't stop it. And while she knew that this interview was important, that they could make or break their case on it, she wasn't sure he was wrong or that she wanted to be making all the calls he had to make. 

She parked in the lot, shutting off the car and getting out. She walked around back to where Beth and Trish were, Hardy following after her. They reached Trish at the same time, and she looked at him. He shook his head, gesturing for her to do it.

“Trish, we're going to release a statement later today about the attack,” Ellie began, seeing the look of horror that washed over the other woman's face. Beth grimaced, though she at least knew this was standard procedure. “It'll be very brief and non-specific. It won't mention your name or the exact location. We wanted you to know, in case you saw it mentioned anywhere.”

“Right,” Trish said, her hands shaking a bit. “You have to do that, do you?”

Ellie nodded. She wished they didn't have to, but sometimes the media was helpful. Not in Jack Marshall's case, but sometimes. “Well, it's important for us to release limited information into the public domain, in case it encourages any witnesses to come forward.”

“We'd also like you to come in at four pm today for your ABE interview.”

Hardy said it so flat and matter of fact that Ellie wanted to smack him, and judging from Beth's look, she wasn't the only one, even if they'd both known this was coming. 

“Right,” Trish said, trying to sound more confident than she was. “If that's what you want.”

“You're welcome to have Beth accompany you, if it helps,” Hardy told her, turning to leave. Ellie stared after him, shaking her head. He knew better than this crap, even if he was shite with people and couldn't count anyone as a friend.

“We were still discussing that,” she said as she hurried after him. 

“No, _you_ were discussing it, I'd made a decision, and I told you that already. Multiple times, even. You feel for that woman back there, but how are you going to feel if another woman gets raped while we're still discussing? How would you feel, living with that for the rest of your life?”

“I know it's a hard balance—”

“You don't, actually,” he said. “It's easy being you, Miller. I'm the one who's responsible. I'm the one who has to decide. I'm the one who has every one in that damned office looking at me like I can't do my job. Like I'm going to break. You people had less sympathy for me when I was dying. Stop acting like it matters now.”

“Christ, is that what you really think? That everyone is—”

“I had a decision to make, and that's what I've done. I don't want to hear any more about it. Not about it, and not about any of the rest of it. Take your complaints to the chief super. I'm done with them. All I care about is finding the man that did this. Let's go. We need to talk to that ex-husband of hers and then we've got a cab driver to find. We don't have time for another pointless argument.”

* * *

“I heard you had a bit of trouble up here earlier.”

Paul looked over at Maggie, forcing a bit of a smile. “Are you so desperate for a story you've come to hear about my leaky pipes? Even a drafty, empty church has its bad days.”

Maggie shook her head. “It seems like a lot of us have been having a bit of trouble with our pipes. I've had two go out at the Echo in the last month alone, and I'm far from the only one who's had a bit of damage done around here. Yesterday a shop window was broken, and last week—”

“Flowers nicked from Mrs. Baxter's garden.”

“Heard about that, did you?”

Paul nodded. “I did indeed. Mrs. Baxter's daughter wanted to know who would do something like that, her mother being a good God fearing woman whose garden is all she has left these days with her mind mostly gone. I didn't have much in the way of an answer for her, and I hated myself for it, since the police didn't seem to see it as a crime.”

“It could have been children,” Maggie said, not sure she blamed them for not pursuing the flowers, though maybe she should. Maybe something like that had been ignored was the right place to start. “And it likely is, as random and disorganized as it seems to be.”

“Hmm, and why do I get the feeling that you don't necessarily agree with that?”

“Oh, you're good, petal,” Maggie told him, smiling fondly. “Well, it wasn't just me. Admittedly, my reporter instinct is saying that there's plenty, but it helps that I got the same sense from DI Hardy. Then again, he might have been hoping for something more than the usual petty crime we get around here.”

“We all seek validation in our choice of employment,” Paul agreed. “Which, sadly, I rather lack.”

“What?” Maggie shook her head. “People will always need a bit of God.”

“I wish you were right,” Paul told her. “On Sundays now, the church is emptier than before Danny was killed. You don't come. Beth and Mark don't come, Ellie and half the people that were affected by what happened here. People look to God when they want something and then... Well, now they've just deserted him.”

“No, Paul, no,” Maggie disagreed. “People love you. You pulled so many of us through these past few years.”

“Exactly. I'm the priest that people look to when they're hurting and then desert when everything's okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Feels like the only person who wants me around is a dying woman, and that... I don't know. I've got more to offer than that.”

“I know,” Maggie told him. “So remind us. Remind everyone. Set up some kind of community event. I'll even give you free advertising for it.”

“You will?”

“Assuming you help me find these vandals and break the biggest story here in years,” Maggie said, getting a snort out of him since they both knew she was exaggerating. Still, it didn't matter. She'd gotten him to laugh, and that was the main thing.

* * *

Hardy's mobile rang as he started toward the cab company. He stopped, waving Miller inside, ignoring the look she gave him. He was tired of her second guessing him, and he was half-tempted to work with someone else for the rest of the day. He didn't know if that would make things any better, but he didn't want anyone else asking him if he was fit to do this job, to work this case.

He had his own doubts, but if he thought he was actually harming the case, he'd have stepped down, given it to Miller and her bloody bleeding heart. 

“Daisy?” he asked, frowning as he took the call. She had better not be checking on him now, too. Had Miller talked to her?

“Where are you?” 

“I'm at work,” he said, not sure what to make of her tone. Something sounded off. She was upset. “Is everything all right?” 

“We were gonna meet for lunch.”

He bit back a swear. That was one of the conditions he'd put on her staying with Chloe the night before, and he should have remembered. She hadn't wanted to agree, which had been a bit surprising after the way she always seemed to be fussing over him these days. “Oh, yeah, that's right. We were.”

“You're not coming, are you?” 

He checked his watch, trying to remember her schedule and wincing. “Oh, I don't think I'm gonna make it on time. No, Daize, I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.”

It wasn't, and he could tell from here. “I'm really sorry. I didn't even—it's this new case. The one I still can't talk about. You'd understand if you knew, but I can't—”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding distant. “I'll see you later then.”

“Tonight, we'll go out tonight,” he promised. “And you can pick. I won't get fussy over the menu. Promise. Well, unless it's chicken. Then I might fuss. Can't help it. It's chicken.”

She laughed, which was half the point of what he'd said, but something still felt off about it, and he didn't like the way his stomach twisted up when she said. “Yeah, okay, bye.”

“I'm sorry,” he repeated again, but she had already hung up on him.

“Everything all right?” Miller asked, and he jerked, wondering how he'd missed her approach. He took a breath, trying to calm his heart before his pacemaker fired. 

“Nah, I messed up,” he said, leaning against the building, shaking his head. He knew something was off with his daughter, but he couldn't tell if that was just him being an idiot again or if it was something deeper. “How do you do it, Miller, the whole single-parent thing?” 

“By constantly absorbing feelings of failure, guilt and shame,” she told him. Then she stopped smiling, looking at him. “How big could you have messed up to get that face?”

He shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't know what was true and what was his paranoia, not right now. This case was pushing at all of his buttons, between Miller pissing him off and everyone expecting him to fail—nothing new, but then the increase in panic attacks and flashbacks was. A woman had been raped, and everything kept trying to remind him of what Joe had done, and Hardy could barely keep things straight and stay in the present instead of those dark horrors of his mind. He knew what happened, that was bad enough, but he kept imagining what could have, what did happen to that woman, and now he couldn't help picturing Daisy as the victim.

Again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trish gets a threatening text. Daisy's situation worsens. Ellie worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I probably should have found a place to end this sooner, as it got a bit long, but I guess that makes up for it being a few days overdue from my regular schedule. It was a bit difficult to do, and the last scene fought me so much. I could not find an ending for it.
> 
> I did, at least, get to show part of how Tom's story changes. I know that he was an idiot in season two, but I was hoping to see improvement from him, not what the show did. It was a bit too much of stereotypical teen in his story, and not everyone rebels and has that attitude problem that is so common on television and in movies. I also figured that this Tom would have had another path/reaction to things after Understanding of the Dark. Joe's actions there would have changed a lot for everyone.
> 
> I have to deal with Mark, as well, but that didn't end up fitting in here after what I did with the others.

* * *

Hardy went back to his office, sitting down in the chair without a word to anyone. Trish was gone, their witness and main source of evidence, and he felt like they hadn't gotten very far at all. He had wanted to get the full story from her, everything that day and night, every person she could remember, everything that led up to that moment by the waterfall. He wanted something they could really use besides a seemingly endless list from the party and a bit of twine anyone could buy.

They needed more, and instead, she'd shut them out. Again.

Miller came into the office, shutting the door behind her. He took off his glasses, setting them on his desk. “Please don't say, 'I told you so.'”

She might have been about to, but she didn't. She sat down across from him. “Well, we couldn't delay getting her evidence any longer.”

“Why does she not want to tell us?” Hardy asked, shaking his head. He didn't know why everyone had to confuse this issue. Someone who had consensual sex was not to blame if they were raped. They were two separate things. “How does that make sense to her? Why did she not tell us beforehand?” 

“I imagine she thought it was none of our business,” Miller said, and he grunted. He supposed that he could see that, though he didn't want to agree, just on principle. This was the sort of thing that made his job ridiculously difficult. It wasn't that these cases were that twisted, but people lied when they didn't have to, and if they'd only tell the truth, half this work could be avoided. Danny's killer could have been found before Jack Marshall died, for one thing, only they'd looked so long at Mark Latimer and then the papers went against Marshall, and then Susan Wright threw her toxic self into the mix.

“Do you believe it was a stranger she met on a dating app?” 

He shook his head. Not for a second. “Do you?” 

Miller grimaced. “Why would she lie?”

For a thousand reasons, Hardy thought. He didn't know what the specific one was in this case, but he'd seen it before, and he didn't just mean Mark Latimer lying about having an affair even when he was accused of murdering his son. He'd seen other victims lie about things they thought others would judge, ways they somehow brought this attack on themselves.

“You see, now I'm thinking, what else isn't Trish telling us?”

Miller glanced toward the door and back at him. “What about you? What did you leave out when you gave your statement? More than what they forced out of you at the trial?”

He glanced toward the picture frame on his desk, tempted to throw it at her. Not because he was angry with Daisy, but because he knew it would hurt Miller, and he wanted to do something that would make someone else feel that pain. Her, in particular, because how _dare_ she ask that of him? He had no desire to revisit the sick things her husband had done to him, and if he chose to leave some of that out, that was his concern, not any of theirs.

_“Impotent?” Joe demanded in a rage, grabbing hold of him, and Hardy thought this would be it, when Joe actually killed him. He tightened his grip on Hardy's neck, getting in his face. “I'll show you impotent.”_

_Hardy heard a zipper, and he yanked on the bonds holding him. That wasn't what he'd meant when he'd goaded Joe. Death, yes, he expected the other man to lose his temper and kill him, but not that. Not that._

Hardy's chair hit the file cupboard behind him, and he found himself back in the present, with Miller staring at him in concern. He didn't know if that moment was as brief it as it seemed or not, though if it hadn't been—he refused to think about it.

“Alec?” she asked, and when he glared at her, she changed it to, “Sir?”

He forced himself up out of his chair. “I'm headed out, Miller. I promised Daisy dinner.”

* * *

“How was dinner?” Ellie asked, and Hardy grunted, not looking at her. She figured he was still angry about earlier, when she'd called him on what he'd left out of his testimony. The more it replayed in her head, the more certain she was that he'd left part of what happened out, and she didn't know that she _wanted_ to know what Hardy wasn't saying, but at the same time, she did. She couldn't help thinking it was far worse than she'd known, and she couldn't forgive herself for as much as she did know. “Did you redeem yourself?”

He gave her a look. Then he shifted in his seat and looked out the window. “No.”

“Did you not even go to dinner?”

“We went to dinner.”

“Then what happened? Why weren't you able to fix things?”

He tapped the window in annoyance. “Something is bothering Daisy, something's wrong, but before I could get anywhere asking about that, we got the call from Trish's daughter.”

Ellie nodded. She'd gone by to pick him up as soon as she'd gotten the call, but it still felt like it was taking too long to get there, delayed by the side trip to get him, but she couldn't blame him for going home to his daughter. He owed Daisy a lot, and that girl apparently needed him right now.

Poor thing. Ellie might try and talk to her herself if it wasn't too late when they got done at Trish's. She parked the car in front of the house, turning off the engine, and opening her door. She got out and walked with Hardy to the door.

Leah opened the door, peering out at them. Ellie reached for her badge same time as Hardy did. “I'm DS Miller. Ellie. We spoke on the phone.”

Leah looked at Hardy, and he held up his id. “DI Hardy.”

“Where's your mum, Leah?”

“She's out back,” Leah said, opening the door and letting them in. She led them through the house, out to the backyard. “There. I think she's been through half a pack already.”

Ellie winced. 

“When did the message come in?” Hardy asked, and Ellie thought again about the possibility of him being a smoker before. Could he want that now? 

“About an hour ago,” Leah answered. “I told her to call you.”

“You did the right thing,” Ellie assured her. They were going to take this threat seriously, and they would do everything they could to find the man who'd hurt Trish.

“She's gonna be all right, isn't she?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie promised, getting another look from Hardy. She ignored it. “It will take time.”

Hardy walked over to Trish, not saying anything to her or Leah. 

“It's from him,” Trish said, taking a nervous drag from her cigarette. “I know it is. He's got my number. He must know where I live. Do you think he's watching us now?”

Hardy glanced around, but he didn't seem to think that was likely. Ellie wasn't so sure, but then she supposed if Hardy's paranoia wasn't screaming at him, then maybe there wasn't anyone out there. 

“Do you know what it might mean? Shut up about what?” 

“No idea.”

“Do you have any sense who the message could be from?” Hardy pressed, and Ellie frowned at him. Why couldn't they at least acknowledge Trish's fears before trying to demand answers of her? What if she was right, and this person knew her? That changed everything, only how did he know her? What did that threat actually mean? 

“No.”

“Trish, could this text be from the man that you slept with on the morning you were attacked?” Hardy asked, pushing even further. Ellie didn't think that his dinner had gone well at all. That, or something else was eating at him. Why else would he be so rough when Trish was so upset? Or was this his form of payback for her silence earlier? 

“I told you, I'm not talking about him.”

“He has your mobile number, though, doesn't he?” Ellie asked, trying to be gentler about it. It could be that man did not want her talking about their liaison that morning. 

“It's not him.”

“We are probably gonna retrieve his DNA from your bed sheets anyway,” Hardy said. “It's quicker if you tell us.”

Trish winced. “Look, I'm sorry I wasn't good enough in that interview.”

“It's not about—I should be allowed not to tell you,” Trish insisted, sounding almost desperate. That poor woman was so scared, and Hardy hounding her was not helping anything. “It was before the attack. It's not connected.”

“We don't know that for sure,” Ellie said, knowing that was probably the last thing the other woman wanted to hear. That man she'd invited into her home, that she'd been intimate with, he was still a possible suspect in her rape, even if they'd had consensual sex only hours before. That was half the reason this sort of crime was so difficult.

“I know that for sure,” Trish insisted. “I do.”

“What if you're wrong?” Hardy asked. That time he was quieter, but he was no less intimidating about it, probably because he'd seen too many people hurt at the hands of someone they knew and trusted. 

Ellie tried again to be the kinder one. “We know how hard this is—”

“Yeah, right, you know how it feels, to be tied up, to have your body violated. And to feel like it's your fault,” Trish spat at her. “Because all I'm thinking every second of every day right now is how did I cause this? What did I do to make this happen?”

“I don't know how that feels, no,” Ellie said, but her eyes went to Hardy. He stiffened, shaking his head before walking away. He knew. Not all of it, but he'd been there. He'd been tied up, and Joe had touched him, fondled him, even, and knowing Hardy, he did blame himself for it, for failing to keep Joe locked up or God knew what else. Still, she didn't know that it did any good to say that to Trish. “We will find the man who attacked you. We will find whoever it was that sent the anonymous message, but it'll take longer without your full cooperation.”

Trish glared at where Hardy had gone. “I'm not telling you who I slept with.”

Ellie nodded. She'd expected as much. “Let me have your phone so we can monitor it for any other threats and find out where that one came from. You can still get a hold of me or Beth any time you need us. And we will get him. The man that did this.”

Trish didn't seem all that convinced, and her daughter looked torn. Ellie forced herself to go after Hardy. She had to have this out with him. Again. Maybe it was time to take him off the case if he was always going to be like this.

She didn't know that she could do this alone, and if she only had Katie to rely on—no, she needed Hardy to do this. She also needed him to get his head out of his arse.

* * *

“Don't say it, Miller.”

He didn't look at her, leaning against the car, his eyes on the ground. He knew what she was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it again. She'd say he pushed Trish too much. Maybe he had, but he didn't understand why she couldn't just tell him who that man was. If her rapist had her number to send her threats, it was someone she knew. That person could be the man who was in her house, and if she was so damned afraid of him watching her, then she needed to tell them who it was.

This was so bloody frustrating.

“I could have told her you knew exactly what it was like.”

He turned, frowning at her. “What?”

“To be tied up and violated? You know what that's like,” Miller said. “That's why I don't understand when you're always so harsh with her. You keep pushing and pushing, and when someone does that with you, you lash out, so why do you keep doing it?”

He choked down something that had just come up his throat. “Exactly what is it you think your husband did to me, Miller?”

She flinched, but she kept on. “Whatever you think about it, having your clothes taken and your body... fondled by someone you didn't want touching you, that _was_ a violation. He did tie you up. That's all true. That all happened, much as you keep trying to pretend it didn't. You know what she's going through.”

“It is not the same,” he said, and Miller looked like she was ready to smack him. “I don't wonder what I did to make him pick me. I don't have any doubt about why Joe chose me. I arrested the bastard and his damned defense team told him we were having an affair. In his mind, I deserved all he did to me. I know that. I don't wonder about it.”

She winced, coming over to lean against the car next to him. “She does, so you could be a little gentler. Or should I ask you again if you can handle this?”

He gave her a look. “I thought I said—”

“You walked off in the middle of an interview. I want to know if you really think you're up to this.”

His eyes went back to the ground, the stark white of the concrete reminding him of a plain blank paper locked up in his desk. Of six little words that were just as unsettling for him as that text had been to Trish. His were more direct, and he knew who'd sent them, even if he couldn't prove it.

_I miss the way you feel._

“If that text was from the man Trish was with that morning, telling her to be quiet about what they'd done, then he could still be the man who attacked her at the party,” Hardy said. “I don't see why she'd hold back against a threat like that.”

“You held stuff back.”

“That's different. It made no difference to the overall case or the charges against Joe.”

“According to you,” Miller said. “And you might be right, seeing as you know how our system works and what charges might be put against Joe, but that doesn't mean you are.”

Hardy shook his head. “Bloody hell. Who does it help to say that the bastard actually kissed me? Is that a detail _anyone_ needs? No, it's not. So just do us all a favor and drop it.”

Miller reached over and put her hand on his arm. He glared at her, but she ignored it, as usual. “Joe did that? He really did? Was that part of his whole bullshit about trying to understand?”

“Probably,” Hardy said, though he knew that of the things he had left out, he had chosen one of the lesser evils. He didn't like admitting that Joe had done that, actually put his mouth on his, but there were other things he wouldn't admit at all, and giving Miller that should stop her prying for a while.

“God, I'm sorry,” Miller said. She looked at him like she was actually going to do the unthinkable, and he moved before she might actually attempt the hug.

“We need to get started on that phone,” Hardy said. He didn't bother asking her if she'd gotten hold of it. He knew Miller had done what was necessary, even if she doubted his methods and had to apologize for him. 

“I'll keep her phone in an unsealed exhibit bag,” Miller told him. “If anyone wants access to it, they'll have to go through me. And we can get on to finding the source of the text first thing. I think I should take you home now. You look dead on your feet.”

“Thanks a lot,” he muttered, knowing it would be useless to go home. He would be up all night anyway between the case and Daisy. He needed to talk to her, and she would already be asleep by the time he got back. He shook his head. He wasn't done for the night. “What do you think, Miller? Do you think her attacker sent that text?” 

“Well, it doesn't make sense,” Miller began as she crossed around the car. “Why send it now? The news has been released. It's gone public.”

“Unless the news reports triggered it,” Hardy said, and she nodded as she opened her door. “If it was her attacker, it makes it much more likely it's someone she knows.”

“Are you really going to do this now?” Miller asked as she got in the car. “We can't do anything until the morning. We're both going home to get some rest.” 

“Shut up about what?” Hardy went on, opening his own door and sitting down. “Does he think she knows his identity? Or is there more she's not telling us?”

“I am taking you home, and after that, I'm going to bed,” Miller said. “I think you should do the same. You need it even more than I do.”

“Say she knows her attacker,” Hardy went on as he buckled himself in, still thinking. He had said it before—he knew why Joe Miller had come after him, but why had Trish's attacker chosen her? “What's the motive? Someone angry with her? Jealous about something? Wants to punish her? Was it just a bit of drunken flirting that turned violent?” 

“With respect, sir, there was no flirting,” Miller said. She started the car, pulling away from Trish's house. “He knocked her out. It was about power and control, not sex.”

“I know that.”

“You're not actually going to stay up all night working on this, are you? You know it doesn't help if you don't get any sleep.”

He didn't even bother looking at her for that one. He didn't think he would get much of any sleep until they found Trish's rapist, and even then, it was still unlikely. He hadn't slept a night through since Pippa, and that was not going to change now.

* * *

“I swear, everyone's looking at us,” Daisy said, frowning, and Chloe nodded next to her, a frown on her face. Something was wrong today, and they both knew it. The looks, the whispers, something had happened, and they seemed to be the only two that didn't know what it was.

“Just ignore them,” Chloe said. Daisy gave her a look, and she grimaced. “This is how it was when I first came back after Danny died. It was weird, and I couldn't take it, but that was then. I've moved past it now.”

Daisy adjusted her bag on her shoulder. She didn't know that she would have been able to move on, but then she'd never had any siblings to lose. She'd wanted them, off and on, but her parents either weren't willing to try again or just couldn't. She'd never asked, and neither of them had ever really said. Mabe it was a sign that they weren't always on good terms even long before that case went bad.

“Have you, really?”

Chloe shook her head. “I'm still trying. We all are. I've got Lizzie, and that helps, but it's not the same. She's not Danny. She's so young. And my dad isn't handling things well. I don't even know what to do with him.”

Daisy could say the same thing about her dad, since she knew he wasn't coping with his abduction and what Joe Miller did to him. He kept pretending he was, but he wasn't.

“It was bad when Dad's case in Sandbrook fell apart, but not like this,” Daisy said, eying the other kids around them. “This feels worse. It's... It feels personal, this time, and last time I knew it wasn't. They were talking about Dad, said all sorts of things about him, but I knew all of that was wrong. One thing my father is good at... that's being a cop. He didn't screw that case up, and I knew it. Even when my parents split, I knew. I just... It hurt that he left us. I wanted him to stay, but I was too stupid to say it, so I just got mad at him from a distance.”

Chloe nodded. “I know how that goes.”

Daisy's phone buzzed, and she dug it out of her pocket, frowning as she read over her father's text. _Some boys were at the house looking for you. Let me know if I need to do more than tell them off._

“Something wrong?”

Daisy didn't know. “I'm not sure. Dad may have done something this morning that is behind all of this, maybe. He says he told off some boys at the house.”

“My dad did that once. The two boys before Dean what were interested in me, he ran them off. Still, I didn't know there was anyone nosing around. Why not talk to you here instead of at home?”

Daisy shook her head. “No idea. Though this could get a little embarrassing. If you think your dad is bad, think about a Scottish bear who's been a cop more than half his life.”

Chloe laughed. “I bet.”

Daisy didn't really laugh, since some of growing up with two police officers for parents was anything but a joke. She looked across the school yard and saw a girl making a beeline toward them. Oh, this could be really bad. 

“Do you know who that is?” Daisy asked, looking at Chloe.

“Leah Winterman, I think,” Chloe said. “Not sure why she'd want to talk to us, but she's all right.”

“You're Daisy Hardy, aren't you?” Leah asked after she got close. Daisy frowned again, not sure how to feel about the fact that the girl was looking for her, in particular. Had her father set off those boys, or was this something else from that night she didn't really remember? “Your father is DI Hardy, isn't he?”

Daisy nodded. “Yeah, he is. Why?”

“He's got my mum's case.”

* * *

“You okay?” Tom asked, looking over at Micheal Lucas. Something was going on with his friend, had been for a while now, but he didn't even know him well enough to know what it was. Micheal was one of few kids that still talked to him after his father was arrested for Danny's murder—no one else wanted to be around him—so he took their friendship for what it was.

He wasn't ever going to have a friend like Danny again. His father had ruined that, just like he'd ruined everything else.

“Yeah.”

“It's just 'cause, you know... You don't say much,” Tom told him, and Micheal grunted, not really responding even as Tom waited for a reply.

“Just stuff at home,” Micheal said eventually. “My stepdad's being a dick. More of a dick than normal, I mean.”

“You're sure it's just that?”

Micheal nodded. He took out his phone, and Tom figured he was going to lose him to another one of those videos. Micheal always seemed to be watching them, and while he had shared a few of them, Tom wasn't sure he wanted to see any more of that. A part of him did, but a part of him found them weird and uncomfortable.

“Oh, I bet you haven't seen this,” Micheal said, and an instant later, Tom had two new messages on his phone. He looked at the pictures and frowned.

“Where'd you get these?”

Micheal shrugged. “Don't know. They're going around, though. I think just about everyone has them. Leo really liked them, said he'd like to see more. Couple guys said we should go talk to the one girl about hanging out. She seems like a lot more fun than people thought, since her dad's a prick.”

Tom tried to find words. He couldn't. That prick was DI Hardy, and that girl was Daisy. He almost didn't believe it was her, since he wouldn't have thought he'd ever see a picture of her drinking, period, but drinking with her top off, holding her skirt up like that and showing everyone just about... everything? No.

And Chloe's picture was just as bad, almost the same pose, with the shirt gone and her pants half off, like she was about to get naked a second later. Tom felt a little sick, having seen them.

“I have to go,” he told Micheal, who frowned a bit but didn't stop him. He walked away, not wanting to look back. 

He didn't know what to do. He knew both Daisy and Chloe. Chloe was his best friend's sister, even if Danny was long since gone and they'd been fighting when he died. And Daisy... well, they weren't close, but her dad... Tom wasn't sure he'd ever like the man, not really, but then Hardy had gotten his father put away where he couldn't hurt anyone again.

He almost called Daisy, since he had her number, but he didn't even know how to tell her about what he'd seen. Maybe it was better if he didn't say anything. Or maybe she already knew?

He grimaced, looking back at the school and trying to decide what he was going to do.

* * *

“Seriously, though, please eat,” Ellie said, offering some of her food to Hardy, who gave it a look like he might vomit on the spot. She wasn't sure if that was commentary on her choice of food or if he was really feeling sick. Not that she would be surprised if he was.

“I'm not hungry.”

“That's why you're feeling rotten,” she told him. “You're not eating. Again. You never eat. Between that and you not sleeping, you look terrible.”

“Just leave me alone, eat your stupid Scotch egg,” he grumbled, looking away from it like it might make him vomit all over both of them, which was the last thing she wanted, but she also didn't want him starving to death on her watch.

“It's this case, isn't it?” Ellie asked. “You're reliving what Joe did, which makes you feel it all over again, doesn't it? That's why you've got no appetite. That would make anyone sick.”

“Oh, for God's sake, this again,” he muttered. “Miller, when the hell are you going to realize that everything in my life is not about what that man did to me?”

She shook her head. “You know I don't believe that. You're a lot more than what Joe did, just like I'm not what he did. Tom isn't what he did. Fred isn't. We're all so much more than that, even if we've been touched and tainted by what he's done. I just... I can tell you're not taking care of yourself. You're not eating. Not sleeping. I haven't even seen you with tea today.”

He frowned. “I had tea.”

“No, you didn't.”

He sighed. “Miller, I don't want your food. That's all. Stop making it more than it is.”

She sighed. “I'm not trying to, and God knows I don't want to be worried about you, Hardy, but I am. I'm watching Trish go through hell because of that man, and I see so much in her that I've seen in you since Joe hurt you, and I hate knowing that he was free to do that, that I had a part in letting that happen. I hate it, and I hate knowing that this case is making it that much worse for you. I do not want to be thinking that you're falling apart because of this.”

“I'm not.”

“Then prove it by actually acting like you give a damn about what happens to you. Eat. Have some tea. Get some sleep. I don't care if you need a prescription to do it, you have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“And when did you last sleep?” he countered. “And look at what you're eating. That's not food. Stop lecturing me when you're not a bloody bit better.”

She liked her food, so she wasn't going to start with him on that. She took another bite and chewed on it, trying to find something to say that wouldn't make him angry all over again. She didn't know that anything like that existed.

She looked out to the distance. “If Joe hadn't gone after you, what would you have done?”

Hardy frowned at her. “Why are you asking me that?”

She knew that was still a touchy subject, but she couldn't help it. “You weren't going to stay. You hate it here, don't you?”

He nodded. “I do. Mostly.” 

She almost smiled at that mostly. “You were going back for Daisy, but she's here now.”

“I hadn't thought that all through,” he admitted, turning to the other direction. “I'm not good at that sort of stuff. I guess I thought... I thought I'd go back home, try and fix the family. Give it another go. I don't know how that would have gone.”

“You think Tess would have been willing to reconcile? Or were you thinking of co-parenting but more local than you had been before?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Doesn't matter anyway. The place I thought was home wasn't anymore. And then Daisy... she and Tess don't get on these days. Sometimes it seems like she's... at war with her mum. And I am. I don't know. Daisy likes things here. That's enough.”

“It is?” Ellie asked, and he looked at her like she was crazy. “Not many dads would do that for their daughter. Where they live is their choice. No one else's.”

He frowned. “The kids have some say in it, don't they? All you hear when you're looking for a place is how great the schools are. Children have influence. It's not about giving them all they want, but Daisy wasn't doing well up with her mother, and she might as well be where I am, even if Tess still seems to blame me for all of this.”

“You're kidding, right?”

He shook his head. “I brought Joe Miller down on my own head, you know that. I arrested him, slept with his wife, framed him, and then balls up the trial so that he got off. Of course he'd come after me for that. I'd been redeemed. I closed Sandbrook. Joe was vilified even though he'd been found not guilty. He was always coming after me. And she wasn't that thrilled to have me digging into Sandbrook again. You saw that. I rattled too many cages, and why the hell was I so surprised to have the whole damned thing come down on me?”

“Did she actually say that to you?”

“Does it matter?” Hardy asked. “That's not even what you want to know. You're wondering why I stayed here after the trial when everyone knew what Joe did. Why I didn't drag Daisy somewhere else to try and start over. I don't have an answer to that.”

“You're not going to say there's no point because you'd still remember no matter where you were?”

“What do you want from me?”

She sighed, looking down at her egg. “I don't know. Some sign that there's a way past all of this. For you, for Trish, for all of us. Or maybe I just want you to give me something to be good and mad about, and why not Tess being a bitch to you? Make her the enemy for once. Stop covering for her. Don't say she's Daisy's mum and that means you can't say anything bad about her. Daisy's not here. Or do you really still love her after all of this?”

He shook his head. “Any love I had for her died for good after what Joe did.”

“Bloody hell,” Ellie whispered, hating Joe and even Tess a bit all over again. Hardy hadn't deserved it, she didn't care what anyone thought. He hadn't brought this on himself, and he shouldn't have to be like this. Neither should Trish. “You know you're not responsible for any of it, don't you? I don't care what they say. They're wrong.”

“What do you care about that? Why are you so eager to defend me? Save that for Trish. She needs it. I don't.”

Ellie gave him a look. “Do you honestly believe that? You claim this is easier because we knew who hurt you, but we don't know with Trish. We've got this thing that just keeps getting wider. It's not narrowing down. Normally, we'd have been able to rule some of these men out. Feels like the more we talk to, the more we rule in. They were all there, they all saw Trish; they all had an opportunity. It's a scarily wide net right now. Only that isn't even the worst of it. The worst is knowing that even if we do find this man, it's not over for her, just like it's not over for you.”

“I swear, Miller, I'm going to take that Scotch egg and throw it in the bloody sea if you don't stop fussing.”

She held it out of reach, refusing to lose her lunch even if he wasn't smart enough to give himself something to eat. She'd make sure Daisy forced dinner on him again, so he'd at least have that, though he needed a lot more than one meal to fix this.

“Have you had a chance to talk to Daisy?”

He shook his head. “No, she was gone before I was done in the shower.”

“Still worried about her?”

“Aye. Had some boys come 'round the house this morning. Don't like it.”

“Because you don't want her dating yet or because of this case? Do you really think one of them was involved? Trish is quite a bit older, and a boy is an unlikely guest at her friend's party.”

Hardy ran his hand over his face. “That's the thing, Miller. I don't know. Don't know if I'm being paranoid, don't know if those little shits did something to her, don't know if she's dating one of them, don't know who attacked Trish, don't know a damned thing. I don't understand the psychology of the man who does this sort of thing.”

“That,” Ellie said, “is because—in spite of the fact that you're an irritating knob who is impossible to work for—you're a good man. You'd never think of crossing that line with a woman—with anyone—and it's incomprehensible to you that someone would, even after what happened to you.”

“Flattery, too?” he asked with a bit of a snort. “You really are worried.”

God help her, she was, and not just about him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie conspires a bit with Daisy before the reconstruction at Axehampton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did finally manage to get Paul's subplot going. I think that's something, even if I may have made things a lot worse.
> 
> And I hope to expand a bit on something the show never really pursued, but I think should at least have been ruled out.

* * *

“I got word from Beth,” Ellie said, looking over at Hardy, who was either having a flashback or falling asleep in his seat. Seeing Hartford's board had drained them both, taking whatever energy they might have had left, and he didn't even fight her when she said she'd take him home. “She said that Trish wanted to do more, even suggested going back to Axehampton to see if anything jogged her memory.”

“What?” he asked, frowning. “Guilt?”

“Maybe. You were pretty harsh with her about not telling us about the man she slept with that morning,” Ellie said. “Either way, I said we'd meet them there in the morning.”

He nodded. She was a little tempted to just keep driving, wondering if that would help him get some sleep for a change. She'd at least seen him with multiple cups of tea, so he wasn't completely dehydrated, but it didn't help much if he was killing himself in every other sense.

A part of her thought maybe she should just take him to her house, force him to eat, and make him sleep, but he'd balk at that for sure. Daisy was probably at Chloe's, so Ellie could call her over to meet for dinner, but then again, maybe she wasn't.

She drove in silence, trying not to look over at him too much, wanting him to relax enough to rest. She didn't even know if he'd been sleeping when all they were chasing were vandals, and that was likely kids. She had wanted to finish that, but she knew that they had to find the man who attacked Trish. He was a much greater threat.

She saw Hardy had his eyes closed, but she didn't know if he was sleeping or not. Her idea for driving around probably wouldn't help, since she'd only just remembered he'd been taken in the cab he'd hired. It was a wonder he ever let anyone else drive him anywhere.

She stopped in front of his house, surprised to find the lights on. Daisy was home alone, then. That could be bad. Ellie shut off the car and turned to discover that he was, actually, asleep. She grimaced, not sure how she was going to do this. She didn't want to wake him, but she also didn't want to stay here all night.

She took out her phone and started a text. _Your father seems to have fallen asleep in my car._

_I'd say take a pic but don't wake him. He hasn't slept in days._

_I know. Did he actually eat last night?_

_Not really._

God, Ellie thought. Of course he hadn't. She almost said to hell with it and woke him, but instead, she opened the door as quickly and quietly as she could, slipping out and heading up to the house. She knocked on the door, and Daisy let her in, frowning.

“Sorry,” Ellie said. “I thought we may as well talk in here, and as much as I didn't want to risk waking him, I couldn't sit there all night with him.”

“No, I understand,” Daisy said, looking out at the car. “I hope he stays out for a bit. Last night he had the one where he wakes and pukes. He was so loud he woke me up.”

Ellie winced. “Damn it. I guess that explains why he wasn't eating again today.”

Daisy nodded. “Probably.”

“He really does need to eat, though, so if you can get him to have anything at all, please do,” Ellie told her. “I know it's a lot to ask, and I hate putting that on you, but I don't know that what I'm doing is helping, and neither of us wants him sick or hurt.”

“I'll try,” Daisy said. She leaned against the wall, looking almost as tired as her father. “I can get up early and make him breakfast. He won't refuse it because I did it, even if it is awful.”

Ellie nodded. “That's good. Thank you. I don't know that he would eat if you weren't around to make him do it, and that honestly scares me a little.”

“Scares me, too,” Daisy said, and Ellie regretted what she'd said. She didn't need to make it worse for that poor girl.

“Tell you what, how about tomorrow night you come round mine, and we'll all have dinner together,” Ellie said. “Since I've been driving him, he'll be there, and that'll be two meals. We can keep doing that until he's back in the habit of eating.”

“Sounds good,” Daisy said. She started to say something, but the door opened, and whatever it was got lost as soon as she started. She grimaced, and so did Ellie. Hardy should not be awake already, damn it. He should have been out for at least... oh, an hour would have been good, but even that wasn't nearly enough.

“Hey, Dad,” Daisy called as Hardy stumbled in. “Ellie and I were just discussing what to draw on your face.”

He snorted. “I have a beard.”

“I told you we should have done shaving cream in his hand,” Ellie said, and he gave them each a look in turn. She didn't think they'd fooled him, though she would have been surprised if they had. If he'd smiled or laughed, she might have fainted.

“Go home, Miller.”

“I will. Don't forget we're going back to Axehampton in the morning. You'll be ready?”

He nodded. “Go on. Go home. And you, young lady, to bed.”

“You going to tuck me in?” Daisy asked, smiling as she teased him. Ellie thought that Hardy was the one who needed to be tucked in, but she wasn't about to say anything about that now. She gave Daisy another smile before she left the house.

* * *

“I could barely handle that,” Miller said, and Hardy tried not to look at her. He knew what she was asking without saying it. She wanted to know how walking the scene with Trish affected him. Miller was struggling. So he must be, after hearing all that, watching that woman vomit when she relived the attack.

He was strangely numb. A relief, because if he had gagged, he probably would have lost the breakfast Daisy made him, one he still regretted eating. He shouldn't have, it hadn't sat well with his stomach ever since.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing himself away from the waterfall. He wanted a shower. He could feel Joe Miller on him, and he was either going to puke or jump into that water, try and get rid of that feeling. He walked up around the waterfall, needing to gain some distance and perspective. He was aware of Miller following him, but then she always dogged his footsteps these days. She was a good little watchdog for the CS, but then he didn't think she was doing it for their superior.

Hell, Miller seemed to be rather angry with the woman these days, and her insistence on keeping him on this case said quite a bit about her trust in the rest of the department. Even if the CS stepped in to take over, Miller would still feed him information and treat him like he was still on it.

Or maybe he was assuming too much.

“What was that light, Miller?” he asked, crossing over to look at the location again. He saw himself there, trussed up and bound to the tree, and Joe Miller was leaning over him. He turned away, sucking in a breath and letting it out, using the same breathing techniques he'd been taught to ease his heart symptoms to calm himself. 

“Sir?”

“'S nothing,” he muttered. “Just... don't think I should let Daisy cook again.”

Miller frowned. “I thought that she was a good cook. Are you sure it's not about what we just heard? I almost lost it myself back there.”

He glared at her. “How many times do we have to do this?”

“Enough to make it so you tell me the truth,” she said with a tight grin. “Hardy, I don't want this case to destroy you. It's not easy for me, and I know it's worse for you, even if you're not willing to admit it. I'm not stupid. If you need time, take it.”

He shook his head. “The light. What was the light?”

“There is a security light,” Miller said. “It could have been that. Maybe a motion sensor.”

“It's not on now,” he said. “What would have tripped it? If we're not setting it off, then Trish wouldn't have.” 

“Unless it was turned on from the inside,” Miller said. “Which means someone was in that night.”

“Can we not get access?” Hardy asked. He wanted to look around here. This house could be the home of the rapist. They would have had perfect access or even just witnessed the whole damned thing. Why hadn't they talked to this person yet? 

“We've not heard back yet from the man who lives here,” Miller told him. “Katie's chasing it up.”

He shook his head. “I want you to do it. Whoever owns this place—they could have seen everything. They could be the rapist. Or they know him. This is like the damned Latimer case all over again. We're finding out about this too late. Again. We didn't look at Jack Marshall, didn't get his alibi in time, didn't know about Ricky Gillispe leaving the wedding. We need this house. We need to go over it with forensics, same as Axehampton.”

“Brian's going to love you.” Miller put her hands on his hips, looking around. “Dirt lot. I suppose it could have been headlights from a vehicle. Maybe there are tracks. We'll have to get someone out here to look at it.”

He nodded. “Do it right away.”

She took out her phone, pushing buttons as she kept talking. “Is that the right angle? Or it was closer than she thinks? Maybe torchlight, shining down on her. Or a phone.”

“All possible,” Hardy said. “I want this scene checked. I want to know everything about the person who owns it. I want to be sure they were not here that night. “And where is the owner for Axehampton? I want a word with him about that wheelbarrow.”

* * *

“I want you to go around to each of these people and ask them about the vandalism,” Maggie said, handing a list over to Olly. He frowned, not taking it from her hand. She shook it, waving it in her face. “Hello, petal. You did hear what I had to say, didn't you?”

He nodded. “I heard you.”

“Then why are you not taking the list?” she asked, shaking her head. “I gave you an assignment. I need you to do it.”

“You're still chasing the vandals?” Olly asked. “We have a much juicier story on our hands, and you're telling me to go find someone who stole flowers or broke some glass?”

“I realize that it may not seem important, but it's still crime,” Maggie insisted. She knew that Hardy was right. Olly was the wrong person to handle that sexual assault. They didn't have any more detail than what the police had released, and that official statement said little, but that was all Maggie needed.

She could hear Susan Wright in her head, threatening her with rape, and she tried not to shudder.

“It's a joke,” Olly said, shaking his head. “I would be better off going to a rag and writing about Big Foot. The sexual assault is the case. I can try and talk to my aunt again. Maybe she'll let something slip again or—I know, Hardy. He's a victim himself, so how does that affect how he's handling it? Can he even handle it?”

Maggie knew that Olly had some valid points. There could be cause for concern with Hardy investigating a case that had to be difficult for him, but asking him about that would only make the whole thing worse. She did not want another Jack Marshall on their hands, and she refused to let Olly invade the privacy of a woman who had endured one of the worst crimes a woman could be a victim of, not if she could help it.

“I am handling the sexual assault,” Maggie said. He started to protest again, and she held up a hand. “Two things. I've been given a promise of cooperation from Hardy if I take lead on this. Sorry, petal, but you've burned your bridges good with that man. Second, I was under the impression—and I believe Hardy was, too—that this was more than just vandalism. It could be a lot bigger than you think, and if the police have to ignore it because another case takes priority—and rightfully so—then you could break it wide open.”

“It's vandals. We always have vandals during tourist season.”

“Ah, but not like this,” Maggie disagreed. “You were trying to convince Hardy it was a hate crime because of my sexual preferences, remember? The Echo's been hit at least twice, if not three times, and you thought that was important before. Now all you want to do is disrupt the life of a woman who has already had her world ripped away from her by a man, and I will not let it happen. You can report on the vandalism or you can report on nothing. Those are your options.”

“Maggie, this is—”

“How it is,” she finished. She hated to lose Olly, even if he was a bit irritating at times and far too often led by the wrong part of his unfortunately male anatomy, but she'd made her decision.

She was going to make sure that the woman who'd been raped got justice. She'd respect her privacy, and she'd help do what she could to expose the rapist, not the victim. That was not happening on her watch. She was going do to right for this woman, having almost been there herself.

* * *

“Mrs. Hall?” Paul called as he poked his head in the door. She'd told him just to come in, but he still felt a little awkward about that. He'd been raised to knock and wait to be invited, and that seemed to go double for priests. They weren't supposed to break rules, ever, though he was far from blameless.

“In here, love,” Ruth answered. “Sorry, I couldn't make it to the door.”

“Not to worry,” Paul said, waving her away before she tried to rise from her chair. He knew that she was polite enough to do it, but he didn't want her troubling herself. He knew how difficult it was for her to get around these days. “How are you feeling today?”

“Old,” she said, and he smiled back at her. “Sit down. You know you don't have to wait for me to ask you.”

“Old habits,” he said, and she nodded. He studied her with a frown. She was looking tired, her pain visible in her face, to where she couldn't hide it in polite chit chat and a stoic expression, as she'd been raised to do. “You said on the phone you wanted to talk.”

She nodded. “Have you seen the news?”

He had. He still kept up with the Echo, hoping to stay in touch with his flock even if they weren't in touch with him these days. He'd meant to call Beth Latimer, see if maybe she could steer him toward who might be helping the woman in the press release. He didn't want to pressure anyone, but if anyone from Beth's office knew he was available to help, he'd like to if he could.

“I keep thinking about it,” Ruth said. She looked at her hands. “It's been so long ago now... It can't possibly be the same man, but I keep thinking about it all the same.”

Paul frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Remember I said there was something I wanted to tell you before I died?” she asked, and he nodded. He'd been a bit alarmed by her grim talk, but she was older and he did think she had an illness she couldn't seem to discuss with him as well. “I've been trying to find a way to say it for weeks now, every time you come by. Instead, I get you to make me tea and send you on your way.”

“Well, I may make better tea than I give a sermon, but I still hope I can be of some help.”

She twisted her hands together, wrinkles and spots creating a strange pattern as she did. “We were told you didn't talk about that sort of thing. Not ever. It only happened to bad girls.”

Paul tensed, aware of where this was going and horrified by it, not just in knowing the secret she had been afraid to tell him but also the attitude that she'd been raised with, the one that had trapped her with this secret all this time, letting it eat away at her, making her think it was her fault.

“That's not true. It's like all crime,” Paul said. “It can happen to anyone, for any reason. Or no reason. You were not to blame.”

“I thought I must have been,” she said. “I wore my skirt too short that day. Just a bit of stupidity. Just thought I wanted to look pretty for once. My dad said I looked like a tramp. He was right.”

Paul leaned forward, putting his hand on hers. “No, Ruth, that's not true. Even if you were dressed in a bikini, it wasn't your fault. It doesn't matter what clothes you had on. This was all him, not you. You didn't invite it or cause it. No, that's not how it is.”

“I never saw him,” she said, not hearing Paul anymore, lost in her thoughts. “He hit me, and I never saw him. I spent so long wondering, looking at every man in town and wondering... was it him? I guess now I'll never know.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Ellie investigate further, while Cath arranges the game, the girls talk, and something gets revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... another missed opportunity the show had was having Daisy, Chloe, and Leah all in the same school and never interacting once. I changed that already, and I did it again here.
> 
> Also, for anyone who had issues with that date Hardy went on, it's not in this story. It does not exist in this world, as this Hardy was way too traumatized to do a dinner out. He doesn't even want to do a dinner in.

* * *

“Any word on that homeowner?”

Miller nodded, reaching for a paper. “Name's Mervin Morie. He got back to us soon as I called. Wasn't eager to have his property searched like a crime scene—and Brian really does hate you now, by the way—but he swears he wasn't home that night.”

Hardy leaned back in his chair, looking across the car at her. He still felt off, and that chat with the rapist out on parole hadn't improved things. He wanted to lock that one up without proof. Just like Miller's swaggery little shit, Mayfield rubbed Hardy the wrong way. He didn't believe for a second that it was 'just a bit of play.' Mayfield had raped that woman, and he used the system against her to get off.

Parole was too good for him, and Hardy almost wanted him to be behind Trish's attack so he could make sure Mayfield went back to jail and stayed there.

He wanted _anything_ that would put him back there, if he was honest about it.

“You believe him?” Hardy asked. “Morie?”

“I didn't get any sense that he was lying, but I put Katie on following up his alibi all the same,” Miller said. “Unless you want me to do that myself, too.”

Hardy almost smiled. “Did that irk you, Miller?”

She snorted. “Wanker. Though it's good to see you having a bit of a sense of humor for a change.”

He didn't know when the last time he'd genuinely laughed was, and even a smile seemed unfamiliar these days. Daisy got them from him, he supposed, but few other things did. He'd been doing his best to overcome that horror show that was the trial, and he'd thought he was ready to be back. He had his job. He wanted it, was good at it.

Only that was before.

He no longer felt like he was that good at what he was doing. He was used to long hours, cases that seemed to go nowhere, cases that fell apart when they went to the courts, undoing everything he'd done. That was just part of the job. 

This, being on edge and unable to hear anything in the case without it taking him back to his own nightmares, feeling things the victim said like they were happening to him, fearing everything including himself, that wasn't.

He was starting to think he couldn't do the one thing he was good at now.

Joe Miller had ruined him, and this case was just showing him what he'd tried to deny ever since it happened.

“Are you ready to talk to Cath?”

Hardy nodded. This shouldn't be that difficult. He could handle one conversation that shouldn't touch too much on the actual rape. They were just trying to account for Trish's movements at the party. That was fine. Normal. He could handle it.

“Hopefully she'll be able to back up Trish's memories of the party.”

Hardy didn't know that it would help all that much, but they did need to know where Trish had been during the party to know where her attacker might have been or when she might have caught his attention. Still, if this man had already targeted her, if he was planning it and had been with her that morning, then he might never have showed his face at the party itself.

Was it someone familiar with the grounds of Axehampton? Not that it would be hard to learn them, but that place by the waterfall, how had the rapist known to use there? Or did they just get lucky?

“Did we check anyone who had been at Axehampton before?”

Miller looked at him. “You think they planned on it because of where the party happened? Are you thinking... what, Jim Atwood? He picked Axehampton for his wife's party so he could rape Trish?”

“I don't know,” Hardy admitted. There was too much they didn't know. “We'll have to see what Cath can tell us.”

* * *

“Everyone was staring at my mum when we walked up,” Leah said, and Daisy grimaced. She'd noticed that, too, though she felt a bit guilty, too. She hadn't been staring. She had been relieved not to be the one being stared at for once. “It was horrible. I shouldn't have gotten her to come.”

“It'll be fine,” Daisy said, and Leah gave her a look. “I know, that wasn't the right way to say it, but what I meant was... it'll get better, and you're not wrong for getting her out in public. It's one of those things that she needs, even if she doesn't think so. Ask Chloe if you don't believe me. It wasn't easy for her to get out at first after her brother died, but she's doing better now.”

“Chloe wasn't raped, though. They're all staring at Mum like it was her fault.”

Daisy looked around. “I think they're staring because they don't know what to say. It's different when it's someone who lived through something horrible. People could tell Chloe they're sorry she lost her brother, but no one knows what to say to someone who's been attacked like that. Mostly they know the wrong thing to say.”

Leah folded her arms over her chest. “You seem to know all the things to say. That because you're a copper's daughter?”

Daisy frowned. “You really don't know?”

“Know what?”

“About Joe Miller abducting my dad and doing stuff to him,” Daisy said, uncomfortable. She almost didn't want to say it, but how did she deny it? She couldn't. “I know a lot of what you're dealing with because I've been through it with him. What Joe did... it really messed him up. At least your mum has Beth. My dad won't even acknowledge that he has me half the time.”

Leah nodded. “Yeah, I'm glad they sent Beth to help. She's good. She's really helping Mum. More than Cath. I don't know why she thought a match would be a good idea. Mum's not sporty, never has been.”

“She probably figured it was the sort of thing that would help her, so she did it,” Daisy said, trying not to think of the well-meaning attempts people had made for her father, though she did anyway. “God, you should have seen it when they wanted my dad to do a picnic. I think that scared him more than when he almost drowned.”

Leah gave her another look, and Daisy was glad to see Chloe jogging up to them, needing the interruption. Daisy poured her a glass and handed it over to her.

“Thanks,” Chloe said after downing all of it. “Bit of a rough game.”

“You're good at it, though,” Daisy said. “I got the Hardy genes when it comes to sports. Absolute rubbish.”

“Same here,” Leah said. “I think Mum's getting antsy. I might need to get her home. I was just hoping this would help.”

“It will,” Chloe told her. “It's not easy, but you have to get back out there again after something horrible happens. It's almost worse being shut up. I would have gone insane if not for Dean making me a happy place. He helped a lot back then. Still kind of miss him, but you know... guys.”

“The worst,” Leah agreed. “They do seem to be paying a lot of attention to us right now.”

“Ugh, not again,” Chloe grumbled. “All I wanted was a fun day out. I don't know what's wrong with them. You're sure it's just your dad telling 'em off, Daize?”

“I don't know,” Daisy said, getting uneasy again. Her eyes fell on Tom Miller, and she had an idea. “But I think I know how we can find out.”

* * *

“Truth time,” Ellie said as she drove Hardy toward her home, knowing he wasn't paying enough attention to stop her and that even if he did object, there was little he could do about it, as he was in a moving vehicle. “Did you give Katie that assignment because she irritates you?”

Hardy looked over at her. “Are you questioning my motives, Miller?”

“You did say you wanted surveillance on Mayfield because you didn't like him,” Ellie reminded him. “Not that I blame you for that. Smug bastard. I wanted to give him the same kicking I gave Joe, and I don't think for a second he didn't actually rape that woman. He just got off easy.”

“Agreed.”

“Ooh, that's almost a first,” Ellie said, and he gave her a baleful look, though she was enjoying this. Twice today, he'd seemed a bit more than his grumpy former self, which was more than a bit promising, though also a bit worrisome. She didn't know if he was trying too hard to convince all of them he was fine, or if Daisy making him breakfast had actually helped, even in just a small way. “You agreeing with me.”

“Oh, shut it,” Hardy said, but he didn't put much bite behind it. “We didn't check that swaggery shit's alibi.”

“Is that how you're going to refer to him all the time now?” Ellie asked, almost hoping he'd say yes. She preferred it over the boy's name. God help her if Tom grew up even remotely like that boy.

“Suits him.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you, and what have you done with my knob of a boss?”

“Don't start,” he said. “No, turn around. I want to go talk to that girl in person. I want her to know the consequences of lying to us.”

“Tomorrow, first thing,” Ellie said, pulling up in front of her house. “I know it's almost unfathomable for you to quit after only twelve hours, but we've all been putting in long hours, I feel like I haven't seen my boys in days, and as an added bonus for you, Daisy's already waiting inside.”

“What?”

Ellie gave him a wide smile, not apologizing for the ambush. She got out of the car, heading up to the house. He'd stew for a bit, she was sure, but she'd send Daisy out after him in a minute. She knew it wasn't going to be easy to talk him into food, but if her dad had come through and picked up what she asked him to buy, she should be able to manage a quick, decent meal that even Hardy wouldn't object to, at least not according to his daughter.

She came inside the house, pulling her purse off her shoulder and setting it on the table. “Fred. Tom. I'm home.”

Fred came bounding around the corner, running up to her, and she gave him a big hug, glad to know that he still wanted to see her despite everything. She held on, taking in his scent and reminding herself that she was still a mum, even if she was really bad at it most of the time.

Her father came out of the kitchen. “Lord's sake, Ellie, why haven't you taught that girl how to cook properly? She should know a lot more than she does. It's a bloody disgrace.”

“Uh, first, she's not my daughter, and second, who is to say that just because she's a girl she should know how to cook? And third, she does just fine, doesn't she, Hardy?”

He grunted. “I'm getting my daughter and going home, Miller.”

“Uncle Alec,” Fred cried, almost leaping from her arms toward him. He caught the boy awkwardly, almost dropping him. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Dad, that's adorable,” Daisy said, snapping a picture on her phone. “Perfect.”

“Daisy—”

“And Ellie's father is an idiot because no one puts that much salt in their pasta, not if they want to eat it,” Daisy said, defensive. “I know just how much you like, and I put that much in, not a pinch more, no thanks to him. He would have dumped the whole bloody bottle in.”

“God, Dad,” Ellie muttered. “There is going to be sauce. You'll get plenty of salt in it. I'm sorry you got roped into cooking, Daisy. I was going to do to it soon as I got here.”

“I finished my homework, and it was either this or bloodshed, so...”

“Bloodshed?”

Ellie looked at her father. “Please tell me you were not your usual self with her. You know what, Dad? I'm home. You get a night off. Go spend it at the pub. You haven't been out in ages. Consider it my treat. And thank you.”

She grabbed his coat, handing it and two twenties to him as she pushed him toward the door. “Take a cab home. Have fun.”

He started to say something, and she shut the door behind him, cutting him off. She leaned against it with a weary sigh, looking up at the stairs.

“Tom, I hope you know your grandfather is _not_ a good example of what it is to be a man,” she said. She turned to Hardy, who was still holding Fred, this time more steadily, and the boy seemed reluctant to let him go. “I think dinner's half ready. I'm going to change clothes. I'll be down in a minute. Just... promise me you won't hurt anyone over an old man's sexist remarks.”

Hardy looked toward his daughter. “Should I?”

“Mostly he insulted my cooking,” Daisy said. “I'm fine, really. Not particularly bent on deciding how many kids I'm going to have when I get married or how very wrong it would be if I were to follow in your footsteps because I'm so pretty.”

“You'd better stop before your father blows a gasket,” Ellie said. She looked at Hardy. “You need me to take Fred?”

Hardy shook his head. “Go change.”

* * *

“Are you going to avoid me all night or what?” Daisy asked, and Tom winced. He'd actually been considering it, trying for it, even after his mother insisted that they all sit down at the table and eat together. He didn't know how to act around Daisy right now, not knowing what he did about those pictures, and it didn't help that Micheal had passed on more or that he knew people were voting on which one of them was the best.

“I'm just—”

“I'm the daughter of two cops, Tom. You don't fool me for a second,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Were you avoiding me or not?”

He grimaced. He knew he had to tell her, but he didn't want her thinking that he was a part of this. “Before I tell you, you have to know I didn't know. And I didn't spread them around.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He took out his phone, pulled up the messages, and showed her the picture he got from Micheal first. He almost did the newer one which wasn't as bad—she still her top on—but he didn't think she'd understand how bad things were if he didn't.

“This is going around school. I don't know who took it or how many people they gave it to.”

She took the phone from him and stared at the screen in horror. “What? I didn't... that's not me. I wouldn't... How did they get this? It has to be photoshopped or... Oh, _god._ How did this happen?”

“I told you, I don't know,” Tom said. “Daisy, I'm sorry. I... I didn't know if you knew or not. I mean... it looks a bit like you posed for that picture.”

“I wouldn't,” she said, looking like she might puke. “I've never—my dad is going to kill me.”

“If you didn't do it—” Tom stopped himself. “There's actually more. And not just of you. There's some of Chloe, too.”

“What?”

“I swear, I only found out yesterday, and I didn't know how to tell you,” Tom said. “I thought you'd blame me for having them or that Mum would get nosy and bring shit down on all of us. I don't know. I was scared.”

“Not as scared as I am,” Daisy said, rubbing her head. “I know that last part of the night was fuzzy, but I didn't think I drank so much I'd... I wouldn't. This can't be happening. Everyone's seen this. That was why those boys were at my house. Dad said he ran them off, but... what if they come back?”

Tom winced. “I can try talking to them, see if I can get the pictures back.”

Daisy handed him back the phone. “I need to talk to Chloe.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Miller get a surprise visit that could change the course of the investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to love work's ability to destroy any and all self-confidence I might have. I had all these lofty ideals of dual updates and something really good in each of them, and instead, I barely managed to put together this, which probably isn't that good at all. Still, it does do what it needs to, which is make things more complicated, as usual.

* * *

“Is your dad still around?” Chloe asked, not sure what to do with her own parents downstairs. Her father was trying to make an effort again, which she liked, but it was hard to see her mother still distant, as though she couldn't quite get back where they were. They'd both changed, and Chloe was proud of her for what she'd chosen to do, but she was worried that her family was broken by Danny's death, never to be fixed.

“No,” Daisy answered, which was a bit of a relief. “Ellie got word in the middle of dinner that DNA results were back, so the two of them left. I'm technically in charge of Tom and Fred for now, until her dad gets back from the pub. I don't know when that will be, don't actually want him back any time soon. I'm not sure what to do, and he's a bit of a pig. I don't need him here while I'm trying to figure this out.”

Chloe nodded. She didn't know what to do, either. She'd had sex before, and she'd even sent some pics of herself to Dean while they were dating that was a lot worse than this, but she wouldn't have done that for strangers. Daisy definitely wouldn't. They'd both been violated, first by someone taking the pictures without them realizing it—she didn't care if she'd said yes while drunk, she hadn't known what she was doing or saying—and then by them spreading the pictures around.

“My dad is gonna go mental,” Daisy said. “It's not bad enough what happened to him, or this case he's working—he's got the rape case. I know he has, even if he and Ellie haven't admitted it—but now I got drunk and everyone's seen me... practically naked. Maybe even naked. God, I don't remember any of that. I could have done something very stupid.”

“Me, too. Not that posing like that was smart, but we could still have done worse.”

“Yeah,” Daisy whispered.

“We'll get through this,” Chloe said. “We've dealt with worse. I mean, I have, and you sort of have, with your dad and all, so we'll just... we can handle this. We... I don't know. I know we'll do it. We can survive it. I just don't know what we're going to do about it yet.”

“Tom said he'd try and talk the ones he knew into not spreading them further,” Daisy said. “Though I'm not sure how much good that does since apparently almost everyone's seen them by now. You, me, and Leah seemed to be the only ones who didn't know about them. Leah probably hasn't seen them because she's had so much going on with her mum—”

“Or because they didn't share any of them with any girls who might have told us,” Chloe said. “Not that we were all that close with Leah before, but now that your dad has her mum's case, we've kind of... befriended her, I guess.”

“I guess,” Daisy said. “I think at first she wanted to know what Dad had told me about the case, which is nothing.”

Chloe nodded. She knew that DI Hardy didn't tell anyone about the cases he worked unless it was necessary. They still didn't know all that he'd done during Danny's case, even after he found out Joe Miller killed him. She'd learned more about it when she was listening to the trial, not from him.

“I guess we'll have to see what tomorrow is like,” Chloe said. “Now we know, and that changes things.”

“Yeah, we know why people are whispering and staring. I'm not really sure that helps.”

* * *

“We need to talk to Trish, confirm what Jim told us,” Miller said, following Hardy into his office. She shut the door behind them, taking her usual spot in the chair. “God, what is with the men in this town? I suppose it's not all of them, but it feels like all of them—except for you—these days. His own wife's birthday party, and he sleeps with her best friend?”

“Are they friends?” Hardy asked, taking his own seat. “Because where I come from, you don't sleep with your friend's spouse.”

She grimaced. “I suppose that hits a little too close to home, too, doesn't it?”

He snorted. “Dave was never my friend. We didn't like each other. He thought he was... well, he was like your swaggery little shit. Thought a lot of himself. Thought he deserved my job. Guess he figured that entitled him to my wife, too.”

“Tess had a choice in that, too, just like Trish,” Miller said. She rubbed her neck, looking tired. “It does explain part of why she was unwilling to tell us, though I keep thinking of Mark and how if he'd only come clean about Becca, it would have been different, that it could have saved us so much time, got us looking at other people. Maybe we would have cleared Jack Marshall before he was hounded to death.”

“Just because he slept with Trish does not make him innocent,” Hardy cautioned. “He said it himself—he could have had her if he wanted. That means he could have felt he didn't have to ask the second time—he'd already gotten permission.”

Miller grimaced. “Again, we haven't managed to eliminate anyone. And I still hate the way your mind works.”

He wasn't particularly happy with it, either, but he knew that wasn't going to change. He was only good at one thing, this job, and his mind worked well for that. Most of the time, at least.

Or it had. Now all it seemed to do was pick the worst parts of his past to torment him with, leaving him stuck feeling Joe Miller's touch or the water overwhelming him, over and over without any kind of escape.

“At least you kept dinner down,” Miller said, and he snorted. “Seriously, though. Your lack of appetite was a bit scary. You have to take care of yourself.”

“Not another lecture. I ate. I'm fine. Shut up about it.”

“Did Daisy tell you she knew Leah?”

Hardy shook his head. He'd noticed that at the match earlier, but there were other bits that had demanded their attention more. Leo Humphries with his nets and connection to Ian, the tension between Clive Lucas and his son, the same boy that had been at Hardy's house asking about Daisy, and then Ed Burnett again. They'd gotten the approval for surveillance on Mayfield, and his daughter's connection to the daughter of their victim was all but forgotten.

“No, she didn't.”

“Could be what's bothering her is you being on this case,” Miller said, and he gave her a look. She shrugged. “It's not like either of us told her that you were investigating a sexual assault. She's probably worried all over about you, not to mention a bit angry at us both for not saying anything.”

“Daisy understands I can't discuss cases,” Hardy said. “And I wish all of you would stop making such a bloody fuss about this. I am fine. What Joe did was different, and you all need to stop acting like it's the same. It isn't.”

She started to say something, but a knock on his door interrupted her, and a second later it opened up to some PC Hardy didn't recognize.

“Sir? There's a Paul Coates to see you.”

“What?”

* * *

“You come to confess?”

Ellie gave Hardy a look for that one, which he completely ignored. For some reason, he seemed to enjoy needling Paul about his faith. She thought it had something to do with his own lack of trust in anyone or anything, let alone a higher power. Not that Hardy hadn't seen the worst in a lot of ways, and he'd been betrayed by his wife, though Ellie did sometimes wonder if the damage went all the way back to his childhood. He might have been deeply scarred by trauma from when he was a kid, too. He'd mentioned his parents bickering, but maybe some of those arguments were physical.

She shook it off, trying to take control of the conversation before Hardy got worse.

“It is awful late to stop by, Paul,” Ellie said. “What brought you here?”

“I knew I wasn't the only one with chronic insomnia,” Paul said, looking over at Hardy with surprising calm, though the pity was probably the wrong tactic to take. “I figured you'd both be awake, and I couldn't sit on what I knew any longer.”

“So it is a confession.”

“Don't make me smack you,” Ellie warned, and Hardy looked at her. She sighed. “I mean, stop being an arse. Sir.”

Hardy ignored her, again, looking at Paul. “Well?”

“I suppose you could say it _is_ a confession, of sorts,” Paul began. “Not mine. Much as I'm sure you'd love to hear that I fell off the wagon and blacked out the night of that assault in the papers, I didn't. That wasn't me. I don't have an alibi, that much is true, since I was alone at the vicarage that night, but I didn't come about myself.”

“Then why did you come?”

“A parishioner of mine has been seeing me for several weeks now,” Paul answered. “She believes she's dying, and I don't doubt her, as her condition does seem to be deteriorating, but she finally admitted to me that she... she was the victim of a similar attack.”

Ellie tensed, and Hardy swore. She wondered if that wasn't half on purpose.

“When?”

Paul shook his head. “She didn't give me a lot of details, unfortunately. I couldn't say if this was at all connected. In part, it sounded like it happened years ago, when she was still a young woman, but it's difficult to be sure. She... Even now, she couldn't talk about it. She was taught that the only women who got raped were ones who were 'asking for it,' as they say. She wore a skirt, so she dressed like a tramp and ended up paying for it. Her family didn't allow her to discuss it. She's only now saying it happened because she's dying.”

Ellie covered her mouth, trying to contain her reaction. God. Even if this wasn't connected to Trish's case, that was a horrible thing to hear. That poor woman. No one should have to suffer like she had, and her family and friends had only made it worse.

“Who is this woman?”

Paul grimaced. “I can't tell you that.”

Hardy pinched his nose. “You are not Roman Catholic. This was not told to you under the seal of confession. Why did you bother coming if you weren't going to tell us anything useful?”

Ellie almost did hit him then, but they were in the interview room, and she knew it wasn't going to help. “Paul, we're going to need a lot more information from her if we're going to know if this is connected to our other victim. We need to talk to her.”

“I'm not so sure she'll be willing to do that,” Paul told her. “She's deeply ashamed and blames herself for what happened.”

“It was not her bloody fault,” Hardy snapped. “Why does everyone blame the victim? She didn't ask for it any more than a car asks for a bird to shit on it.”

Paul seemed torn on how to react to Hardy's outburst, and Ellie had to admit, she found his analogy a little funny even if she knew that none of this should be the least bit amusing. Hardy was right, though. The only crime any of these women was guilty of was existing. Being alive and a woman was apparently enough for their attackers.

Ellie cleared her throat. “We need her to talk to us, and if we can't have that, they we need a lot more detail from you. It would be better from her, but if nothing else, we could use everything you can tell us about what happened.”

“She didn't say much.” Paul sighed. “Only that she didn't see him and that he hit her. After that, she got upset and asked me to leave because she wasn't feeling well. There wasn't anything else I could do. I gave it a lot of thought, and in the end, I came to you in case it is connected.”

“Get her to talk to us,” Hardy said, rising from his chair and leaving the room.

“For the tape, DI Hardy has already left the room, and this interview has been terminated,” Ellie said, turning off the tape. She started to leave, and Paul caught her arm.

“How is he? Really?”

She didn't want to say anything, because she was afraid that Hardy was crumbling slowly and by the end of the case, there wouldn't be anything left, and that it was her fault because she hadn't done anything to stop it. She could—probably should—get him pulled off this case. Maybe it would save him. Maybe it would damn him.

She didn't know.

“He's still here, Paul, and I suppose that's all that really matters.”

* * *

“Do you think it's connected?” Miller asked Hardy, finding him in his office again. He took his coat off the rack and pulled it on before answering. He didn't know what he felt about what Coates told them. A part of him wanted to shake that man silly for keeping back what he knew. Another part of him wanted to scream and shout and break things.

If this really was connected, then this rapist had been at work for decades, and there was no telling how many women he'd harmed since that unnamed parishioner.

“I don't know,” Hardy said. “There's a chance it isn't, since it sounds like this is an older woman, and we're talking twenty, thirty years since her attack, possibly. We don't really know, but if it did happen that long ago, it's either a large gap in between victims—”

“Or possibly dozens we don't know about,” Miller said, leaning against his door with a sigh. “God, this just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?”

“We can't ignore the connection, but we shouldn't assume that it exists, either. They may be unrelated incidents. Without more detail, we can't be certain. We have to focus on what we do have and can investigate, which is Trish's case. We don't have enough to go on from what the vicar told us to do anything there.”

“I know.”

“We need to speak to Trish, see if she confirms Jim's story,” Hardy said. “Come on.”

Miller walked with him toward the outer door. “You know there's this thing called sleep, and we both could use some.”

Hardy snorted, not looking at her. “What Coates told us suggests this man has been preying on women in this area for decades without ever being stopped. You really think you can sleep knowing that?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miller and Hardy deal with more complications to their case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, the end of that episode was powerful and tragic and I felt I should keep it as it was, but I added some before it, knowing I wanted to develop a few other things in the meantime, mostly subplot related.
> 
> Not that I seem to be doing well balancing all of them, but I'm working on it. It's just that some of them need other events to happen first.

* * *

“Well, we found the source of the text message.”

Hardy grunted, and Ellie looked at him. Did he think that it was wrong? Or was he still bothered by what Paul told them or even Trish confirming Jim's story? That was a bit unexpected, but it made her other behavior make sense. It didn't eliminate Jim, much as he wanted them to believe that, so it wasn't as helpful as it seemed, but at least they knew.

She just wished she knew what was eating at Hardy this time. She had too many possibilities there, and it was hard to know which one was which. Was he dealing with his own past or just obsessing over the case? Had it gone too far, and should she have a talk with the CS? Or was she just being paranoid, and she needed to stop thinking every time he stopped to think she should worry?

She sighed. She hated this. She hated this case, the man who'd hurt Trish, and all the others that were showing themselves to be almost as bad. It almost felt like there was one good man in the entire town, and he was a traumatized wreck.

She looked at Hardy. “Are you ready to admit you need a break, then?”

He frowned. “Miller—”

“We worked through the night. Again. I'm starting to feel it, that's all. I could use a coffee, at the very least, and you, mister 'I don't eat' should get yourself a tea or something. Please. It's not going to kill you to rest for five minutes, and it won't hurt the case that much, either. We can take the time, get some food, and talk things over again, decide our next step.”

“Swaggery little shit,” Hardy said, and Ellie nodded. She wanted to check that boy's alibi, and she wanted to do it right now, but she was dragging down, and she needed more than a bit of anger at a cocky kid to get her through the rest of the day.

“Agreed, but food first,” Ellie said, stopping in front of a shop on the high street. He gave her a glare, but she ignored him as she got out of the car. She adjusted her purse and started toward the shop just in time to see Maggie coming out of the Echo.

Damn. She'd picked the wrong place to stop, but she just wanted a few minutes, and Hardy wouldn't have given them to her if she hadn't taken them right then.

“Ellie, if I might have a moment,” Maggie began, and Ellie tried to force a smile. She heard the car door open behind her and knew that Hardy was getting out of his door. Great. There went breakfast.

“We don't have any more details to release at this time,” Ellie said, giving Hardy a glance. He glared at her again. “I'm sorry, Maggie, but right now everything is too sensitive, and we can't disclose more without potentially damaging the case or doing harm to the woman who was attacked.”

Maggie folded her arms over her chest. “After that match on the beach, everyone knows who the victim is.”

“They _suspect,”_ Hardy corrected. “They don't know. I won't have you badgering our victim for the sake of a few papers.”

“I'm not,” Maggie said, instantly offended. “I have kept Olly off this story—not just because you asked me to, but because I agree he'd be the wrong one to handle it. He wanted to do a piece on you and how you're coping with doing this investigation given your own past—”

“Bloody hell. Why is that all anyone sees about this? It is _not_ about me. It's about her. That woman, she's the one we're working for, we're going to find her attacker, we are going to arrest him and see him prosecuted. We are not dealing with me, and I swear, the next person who asks me about that will get decked. I'm even tempted to let you quote me on that.”

He stormed off into the shop, and Ellie didn't manage to suppress the wince.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “I see he's coping with it very well.”

Ellie forced a smile. “Better, I think, than most people would expect. Look, Maggie, you can't print anything about him. That will get used as part of the defense once we find this man, and we can't let someone like this get off like Joe did. I made mistakes back then, and I don't want to repeat them, but I assure you, if I thought he was a danger to the case, I'd have asked for Hardy to be removed. He's not. He's still the best man for the job. If you really have to do something about Hardy's past—save it for after this is all done and that man is safely behind bars.”

“Oh, trust me, petal, I'm not looking to let someone like that free,” Maggie told her. “You could have offered me a bit on public safety, what women should do to keep themselves safe, that sort of thing—”

“Yes,” Ellie said. “I would gladly do that. I'm sorry, I just... It's been a long week, I've been up all night, and I forgot how much I wanted to have one of those messages put out. Are you still willing to do that? It would be good for everyone, and I swear when we can tell you more, I will make sure you get all the information we can give out.”

“Deal,” Maggie said. “Now go rescue that poor clerk from your boss' temper. No need them suffering for something I caused.”

Ellie was too tired to laugh, but she managed a smile before she went into the shop.

* * *

“Ruth?” Paul asked, pushing the door open and knocking on it as loud as he could. He hadn't been invited this time, but he had to see her again. He wasn't doing it just because the police had told him to find out more about her case, though a part of him was worried that she might not be able to give the details before she was gone, and even if this happened a long time ago, she deserved to know that something was being done about it.

She didn't have to suffer and wonder if that man was still out there, not when she was dying. Maybe if she told him more, then Hardy and Ellie could find this man before Ruth died.

Assuming he was the same man, which admittedly was still a terrifying prospect. Ruth's words made it sound like she was still young, maybe early twenties or late teens when her attack happened, and if that was the case, this had happened so long ago that if it was the same man, he'd been able to assault women for decades. Who knew how many victims he had?

“Ruth?” he called again, going into her front room. When he saw her there in that same chair, he feared the worst, crossing over to her and checking for a pulse.

She jerked awake, and he winced.

“Sorry. I called twice, but you didn't answer. I was worried,” Paul told her, and she looked at him with wide eyes, as if surprised that he cared. Just what damage had her family done to her? He knew they'd made her think that her rape was her fault, but even more than that, they must have made her feel worthless, like no one cared at all.

“I don't hear so well these days,” she admitted. “And my hearing aids go in and out. Sorry I scared you. It was just a short nap, that's all.”

“That's a relief,” Paul told her. He looked over at the chair, and she waved for him to sit. He did, facing her and tenting his hands together. “Ruth, I wanted to ask you about what you told me yesterday. Do you think... do you think you could tell the police what you told me?”

She stared at him, horrified. “The police? No. I couldn't tell them. I could never tell them. I'm only telling you because you're a priest and I'm dying.”

He grimaced. “I know, but there was another woman who was attacked, and she might have been hurt by the same man. You were worried about that. You told me you were.”

She shook her head. “I can barely leave my house. I'm not talking to them.”

“They would come to you if you were willing to—”

“No.”

“One of the detectives on the case is a woman—”

“I said no.”

Paul sighed. He wasn't going to get anywhere by bullying her, and that wasn't what he wanted. He'd try again at another time. He also thought maybe if he could get a hold of Beth, she might have more luck persuading Ruth to talk. She dealt with this sort of thing much more often than he did, unfortunately, and she might have been able to talk reluctant witnesses into talking before.

“Can you tell me more than, maybe?” Paul asked, trying to stay gentle. “Any little thing that you think of... it might help. Not just the police. It would also help you. You have had to hold this in for so long, having it hurt you over and over again. You don't have to let it do that any longer.”

She sighed. “I've tried so hard and so long to forget.”

“I know, and I hate having to ask,” Paul told her. He genuinely did not want to hurt her by any of this, but he knew that he had to do something. If this was connected, the police needed to know. And maybe Ruth knew something about this man that could stop her rapist sooner. He didn't know, but he thought it was best to ask. “Still, if you can, please tell me. You said he hit you. Did he do anything else that you remember?”

“I...” She faltered, looking at him. “I don't know.”

“Take your time,” Paul said. “Don't push or rush, just tell me if you feel you can.”

“I... He tied me up,” she said. “I woke up, and my hands were behind my back,” she whispered, closing her eyes with the words. “And I thought... I thought I was gonna die. I couldn't... Couldn't breathe. There was something... in my mouth... but I couldn't see his face. I just knew I was going to die, right there. And I did... just not the way I thought I would.”

* * *

“Thank you for giving me a few minutes to put this together.”

Hardy grunted, not looking over at Miller. He didn't want to think about what she was writing down and how little good it would do. He also didn't like knowing it was mostly just a stop gap, meant to keep him out of the bloody press. Vultures, the whole lot of them, and he hated to think what Karen White might have done with this case, not that she hadn't done plenty of damage with her reports on Joe Miller's second trial.

He hated the press even more now than he ever had before, but that didn't mean he was able to do a damned thing about it. He had tried working with Maggie, knowing she was almost reasonable about this sort of thing, but she'd been pushy and manipulative, too, getting just what she wanted from Miller, since he knew a generic release about what women could do to protect themselves was far from the only thing she'd promised the reporter.

“I sometimes think maybe someone should set up a little shop what teaches self-defense, but then I think that only a few people would come and it wouldn't last,” Miller went on, talking mostly to herself. “Beth would, even though she knows a thing or two, and I'd go, even if I have training. So me and Beth... I think Chloe and Daisy would do it, they're smart girls who'd see the value in it. Maybe Leah. Trish, even, because some women like to take those classes to prevent it ever happening again and gain back some control of their lives, not that Trish could have done anything to stop it when she was ambushed and hit over the head. Still, it helps, I think, to know that you could have done something.”

Hardy looked at her. “Not as much as you'd think.”

Her head popped up, and she stared at him. He almost swore, realizing he'd admitted that aloud. Still, he wasn't lying. He didn't feel much better about knowing that all his training had been for nothing. He was a bitter, suspicious bastard, and everyone knew it, but he'd still given that cab driver too much trust, not even picked up on Joe faking an accent, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from being chloroformed into unconsciousness, allowing everything else to happen.

“There wasn't anything you could have done to stop Joe,” Miller said. “If he hadn't gotten you in the cab, he would have found another way to do it. We found everything he had with him, including the weapon we think he used to kill that cab driver. He would have used that on you if he had to. Oh, God, what am I saying? Like it helps to know that he was completely determined to hurt you, to kill you, even, though first he had to pull that damned 'understanding' act and molest you. He knew what he was. He just wouldn't admit it like he won't admit to anything.”

Hardy shook his head. “You're not telling me anything I didn't already know. I knew he intended to kill me. That part wasn't a surprise or hard to accept. The other stuff, that was. He was a pervert, but I assumed he was one only interested in young boys.”

Miller winced. “You think I should stop?”

“No, Miller, write the damned press release.”

She nodded, going back to work. His office door opened, and a familiar PC stood there, looking very uncomfortable. 

“Hi, Bob,” Miller greeted him pleasantly. “Everything all right?” 

“A woman's just walked in off the street,” he said, sounding upset, which made Hardy tense up, afraid of what he was about to hear. “I've put her in room number three. You need to go and talk to her.”

“Why?” Miller asked. “What's wrong?”

Hardy didn't bother waiting for an answer. He pushed away from the desk, figuring that this was the woman that Paul Coates had told them about the night before. Maybe the vicar had been able to get her to talk. Maybe she had come on her own after confessing to him. Hardy didn't know or care. He just knew he was going to talk to her.

He walked down toward the interview room, Miller hurrying after him and grumbling under her breath. He pushed the door open and stopped, feeling his uneasiness growing by the second. Damn it, Coates made that woman sound elderly. Either he'd misrepresented her, or this was not the same woman.

“Hello,” Hardy began, trying to be polite which rarely worked for him. “I'm DI Hardy. This is DS Miller. The desk sergeant said you asked to speak to a detective.”

“That's right.”

“What is it you'd like to talk to us about?” Miller asked, sitting down across from the woman. She took the newspaper out of her bag, showing the article in the Echo about Trish's rape. “Do you have information about it?” 

“Two years ago in a field, walking home I was...” she faltered, looking like she might cry, struggling to speak. “He tied me up, put a gag in my mouth. I was raped, and I never told anyone.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The existence of other victims complicates things, as does Tom's attempt to do the right thing for Daisy and Chloe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did end up skipping over the scenes dealing with the other attacks. I did not think that I could improve on them, and it felt wrong to revisit them word for word from a transcript. So I went to the part that I changed, the follow up, and went further into some subplots instead. 
> 
> A part of me thinks that this story should probably have all those scenes from the show, but I felt wrong copying all of it as it's very much not mine.

* * *

“They're coming out of the woodwork now.”

Ellie grimaced at the phrase, but she knew that it was not entirely wrong. Trish's case had brought attention to something that was apparently slumbering underneath their town, a sickness that no one even knew it had, and it had been eating away at people for God only knew how long. Ellie hated knowing that, hated wondering just how corrupt everything was—had one man really done all this, or was a different man responsible for each of these four rapes?

The details from Laura and Trish were similar, and Beth's boss had brought them a third, same thing. So three rapes, all by the same man, plus a possible fourth that Paul had told them about, and yet that one was so much older. These ones were all newer, meaning if it was the same man, he never stopped.

“There could be so many more women coming in,” Ellie said, shaking her head as she did. “God, how could this happen?”

Hardy leaned back in his chair. “Rape is about power and control. Those things get robbed from the victim, and one of the few things they think they can control is what they tell anyone else about it. Plus too many people make the victim think they should be ashamed because of what their attacker did. Rape's one of the worst crimes in that respect. People don't necessarily assume that you did something wrong if you get mugged or beat up, even killed, but if you're involved in a sexual assault, it's your own fault somehow. You think it, and the rest of the world confirms that. So you take the punishment for what you did, and you let them get away with the real crime because silence and shame, that's your part in it. You have to take that, and the only way you cope with that is to pretend it didn't happen, compounding the silence. That just feeds on itself because if no one else admits to what happened, why should the next one?”

Ellie looked at him. That was surprisingly thoughtful and a bit philosophical and frightening, all at the same time. Was that what he really thought? That he had to keep it quiet because that was his part in it? Or was he only generalizing and speaking for the other women?

“You think we'll hear from more victims before this case is over.”

“Aye,” Hardy said. “This isn't done, Miller. He's not done, whoever he is. We need to speak to that woman the vicar knows and that other victim. We need to be sure they're all connected. If they are, then Mayfield isn't a part of this. Half our suspects might not be if Coates is right and we have a victim from decades ago.”

Ellie winced. “I don't know if that's better or worse.”

“Worse,” Hardy said, and she frowned. “In the sense that I don't like these men being free even if they're not responsible for that past rape or Trish's. Mayfield is an arse, and he's just biding his time until he can do it again. You can bet it'll be different the next time around. He probably won't leave his victim alive to tell about it, not when he knows he'd lose if he was accused again.”

“God, your mind,” Ellie whispered, though she didn't know how to argue with him about it. Mayfield did seem like the type who'd do it again. He had Joe's same blaming everyone but himself for his crime attitude, and it worried her, especially after what Joe had done to Hardy. “We still have surveillance on Mayfield.”

“Yeah, but keep Hartford off that detail. He'll go for her again. And the other one, the one that left her alone... He can't be on it, either.”

“You know we don't have that many people to spare. You want to do this yourself?”

He grimaced. “I will if I have to, but for now, we need to talk to that girl that gave the swaggery little shit his alibi.”

* * *

“Did I show you this, mate?” Micheal asked, holding out the phone to Tom. He grimaced to see the two people going at it. He didn't think he liked those videos at all, and that one seemed worse because she didn't seem like she was enjoying what that man was doing to her.

“Look, I need to talk to you,” Tom said, not really wanting to do this, but he'd promised Daisy, and he knew that what those guys were doing wasn't right. Daisy didn't remember taking that picture, which meant she'd been too drunk, and that went against what his mum had lectured him about the other night with consent. “You have to stop sharing those pictures around.”

“What?”

“The ones of Daisy Hardy and Chloe Latimer,” Tom said. “You can't keep spreading them around.”

“Excuse me?” Micheal asked, getting that look on his face. “Who do you think you are to tell me what I can and can't do? I saw your face. You liked them. You liked all that stuff I've shown you.”

“No, I didn't,” Tom said. “I didn't say anything because I was afraid to lose the only friend I had, but I have to say something now. Those pictures are wrong, and I know it. I can't let you keep showing them about it. Daisy's a friend. So is Chloe. And neither of them asked to take those pictures and don't want them shared. What you're doing is wrong.”

Micheal frowned. “What do you really think you're going to do about it? They've already been shared, all of the pictures. It's not like I can take them back, and I wasn't even the one that took them. I just showed you. Big mistake that was.”

“They have ways of tracing it back.”

“Wait, are you saying you'd actually tell her dad about this? Are you crazy? He's going to go mental on you, too, since you've seen them.”

Tom thought about it, and he shook his head. Hardy was a jerk sometimes, but he wasn't all bad. Tom always thought about what he'd said about it being better Tom's dad had gone after him instead of Tom. He knew that Hardy was a good guy, even if his mum still grumbled about him. “No, he won't. He'll go mental on you, and I think you and everyone else who's seen those pictures and spread them about deserves it.”

Tom started away from him, knowing he had to go find Daisy. Or Chloe. Neither of them was going to like what he had to say, but he had to tell them anyway. They deserved to know what Micheal had said about the pictures and that no one was going to stop sharing them.

“Hey, it's me,” he heard Micheal say, and he looked back to see him on the phone. “No, we have a real problem. You have to help me. This is all your fault anyway.”

Tom frowned, not sure what that meant, but when Micheal saw him looking at him, he started hurrying away in the other direction. From where Tom stood, he could see that his former friend was upset, but he didn't know that he cared.

He turned back to the school and went in search of the girls.

* * *

“I think I figured it out.”

Maggie looked up from her notes, her latest update on the sexual assault case plus the press release Ellie Miller had sent over in front of her as she tried to set the proper layout. She looked at the coffee in Olly's hand and frowned, suspicious.

“I thought I'd lost you to some tabloid,” she said, sitting back with a frown. “What is this? And just what is it you think you've figured out?”

“Okay, admittedly, I'm still a bit mad about you refusing to let me have any part of the big story, the rape case, and even more miffed about you not even listening to my ideas about possible stories, but while I did think about going behind your back on that or leaving, in the end I knew that was still the wrong choice,” Olly said, and she almost smiled, though she was a bit worried about what was coming after that speech. “I know I get too eager sometimes. I wasn't thinking about the woman who got raped, just the story. I thought I had a good angle on it—”

“Only you'd forgotten that Joe Miller did a lot of damage to this town already without bringing his name back into the thick of things,” Maggie finished for him. “People don't need to be reminded of that shadow again, and you certainly wouldn't be helping anyone if you went after the lead detective.”

“Well, whether or not Hardy's fit for the case is another debate entirely,” Olly began, and Maggie wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road. She'd seen Hardy for herself, and he was tired and wearing thin, but he had been the same in the Latimer case and gotten results. If this case didn't kill him, he'd bring it home. She was going to trust in that, though if she had anything she could use to help with the investigation, she'd do it, just as she'd given them everything she knew about Susan Wright, with only a little bitterness.

“You said you figured it out,” Maggie reminded him. “What was it?”

“Oh,” he said, pulling out a stack of papers. “You told me to look at the statistics on vandalism and check them against past years, which I did, and that was only a bit helpful as there did seem to be a slight—very slight—increase over the last five years. Not so much above last year or even the year before it. In fact, since Danny Latimer's death, there's been a steady increase.”

“There has?” Maggie asked, wishing she'd done more to look into that herself. “How much of one? Enough to where we should be worried?”

“Not exactly. Like I said, it was rather small,” Olly told her. “But I found something else.”

“Oh?”

“There _is_ a bit of a pattern,” Olly said, looking a little smug for something that was just a bit of a pattern. He had that gleam in his eye like he was onto something. “Took me forever to find it, and I'm not sure if it makes any difference or not.”

He didn't say anything after that, and she knew he was leading up to something big, but his act was a little tiresome, especially to someone who knew him as well as she did. “Well, don't keep me in suspense, petal.”

“Almost every business that was vandalized used the same person to handle the repairs,” Olly finished in triumph. “Guess who it was.”

* * *

“Police came, like you said,” Danielle said into her phone. She was starting to have her doubts about this. Leo was good looking and all, but she shouldn't have to lie to the police for him, and that was far from the only thing she'd done.

Micheal was sweet, which was a bit more than she could say for Leo, but then she'd still done it, and she wasn't sure why. Maybe she wanted better. Maybe she didn't know what better was. She'd thought Leo was better, since he was in university and ran his dad's business, but sometimes he could be a real prick.

“What did you say?” 

“What you told me to,” she answered. She always did what he told her to, though she was worried about this one. “They said if I was lying, I could go to prison.”

“Who said you're lying?” Leo countered, and Danielle shook her head. They both knew she was lying, and she was almost sure the police did, too. That was why she had to sign that paper. She wasn't sure she wanted to do that. She didn't want to go to prison. 

“That's the third favor you owe me now,” she began, trying to get some of her own back.

“Better make it four, sweetheart,” Leo said, taking on that tone he got when he was about to lay it on thick so she'd do whatever he wanted. “I need one more thing from you, and then I promise we'll go out Thursday. Anywhere you like, some place expensive.”

“I dunno,” Danielle said. “I haven't gotten anything back for the last few, and maybe I should just start dating that poor lamb you shuffled my way, traded me off to like some kind of pimp.”

“You know that's not how it was. You were doing a favor for a friend. A pair of friends. And I might need you to do it again.”

“No.”

“What?”

She was just as surprised as he was that she'd actually said it. She went long with him most of the time, but she wasn't a toy to be passed around to all his mates, and she didn't think a fancy dinner made up for having to shag one of his friends. “I said no.”

“Danielle, this is important. Some idiot kid is going to mess everything up unless you can distract him. I know you can do it, babe. Just meet me later, okay? I'll take you to him and everything.”

“I said no.”

“You know you don't say no to me.”

* * *

“So we know that Leo Humphries is lying. We know his girlfriend is lying,” Miller said, digging into what passed for food with her. She'd had to get something after their stop to talk to the girlfriend, then she'd pushed him to eat as well, which was why he had some strange wrapped thing sitting on his desk and mocking him.

He didn't want to eat. Thinking about that girl lying for a possible rapist made him sick.

“We don't have anything else on him, though,” Hardy said. He'd like to arrest that swaggery little shit, but they couldn't prove anything at this point. Tired as he was, he wasn't ready to go through another round in the interview room, especially not when it would get them nowhere.

“Mum?”

Miller looked back at her son, frowning. He gulped when he saw Hardy, and Hardy tensed, not liking that at all. This was far from a good sign, and maybe they should be in the interview room after all. Had something happened at the house last night after he and Miller left? 

Since when did Miller's son seek her out at work? Had that ever happened before?

“What's the matter, Tom?” Miller asked, patting the chair next to her. He didn't take it, looking over at Hardy instead.

“It's about...” Tom stopped, swallowing. He looked like he regretted coming. “I saw the thing in the paper. You're working on that rape case, aren't you? Is that just about... what if someone took pictures of people and they didn't know it?”

“That's also considered a crime,” Hardy told him, seeing the boy shudder. Miller gave him a look, and Hardy amended his statement. “Depending on the picture.”

Tom grimaced, taking out his phone. He started to pull something up and then stopped just short of handing it to him. “I didn't take this. I wasn't there. My friend gave it to me, but I didn't want them.”

Hardy waved him over. “Give it here.”

Miller went to grab for it, but for some reason, the boy chose to give it to Hardy. His eyes swept over the picture of Chloe Latimer with a frown. This was the sort of thing that idiots posted on their social media, drunk university kids, but Hardy had thought Chloe had more sense than that. He never would have let Daisy hang around with her if he'd thought they'd do something like this.

“Tom—”

“There's some of Daisy, too.”

Hardy's already troubled stomach tried to send its contents up his throat. “What?”

“I didn't know,” the boy insisted, looking between him and Miller, who was staring at him in shook. “I told my friend he had to stop sharing them, but he said he wouldn't. That all the pictures were all around everywhere. And I tried to talk to Daisy and Chloe again, but I couldn't find them, and Micheal called someone else, said it was his fault.”

“Someone else. You don't know who?” Hardy asked. He had a feeling he knew, and he didn't like it. He fought off images of Daisy down by that waterfall as he opened up the boy's photos. He scrolled past family photos, frowning to see himself in with a lot of them, and found a set of boys he recognized. “Which one of these is your friend Micheal?”

“That one,” Tom said, pointing to the boy on the right, confirming what Hardy suspected. “He was the only one that would talk to me after what Dad did to you, so I didn't say anything about the stuff he was showing me. Mostly it was just random adults having sex. Those pictures are of people I know.”

“This boy was showing you porn?” Miller demanded.

Hardy held up his hand. Parenting was going to wait. Whatever lecture Miller had for her son came second to the possible implications of those photos. That, and if he didn't get this done quickly, he'd end up puking in front of witnesses. “Did you see anything in those videos or photos that was done without consent?”

Tom grimaced. “The one he had today... That woman didn't seem happy. And the photos of Daisy and Chloe... They said that they wouldn't have agreed to take them, wouldn't do that.”

Hardy had hoped his daughter had better sense, but it was clear they'd both been drinking when the photos were taken. “Has your friend mentioned any times where he or anyone else he knew had sex without the consent of the other party?”

Tom fidgeted. “Micheal said his friend would get me a girl if I didn't tell you about this.”

“What?”

Tom nodded. “He said he could get me a girl... um... for sex... if I didn't say anything. He said you'd be angry I had the pictures and that I'd get in trouble.”

“I'll admit, I'm not happy,” Hardy told him. Then he almost snorted at his own understatement. “I'm _furious,_ and if I do find out you had _anything_ to do with doing this to my daughter, even your mother won't be able to save you.”

“I didn't. I swear.”

Miller was struggling with this. She wanted to believe her son, but even from here, Hardy could tell she had doubts. So did he, but then he couldn't straight what was real and what was his paranoia or his past. A part of him wanted to run, right now, get Daisy, find some place very safe to hide her away forever.

Hardy forced himself to work the case. He had to keep focused on the case. Right now, he had to find a rapist. Doing that kept everyone safe. “What's Micheal's last name?” 

“Lucas.”

Miller frowned. “Any relation to Clive Lucas?”

Tom nodded. “That's his stepdad. They don't get on. I think he hits him, but Micheal doesn't say much. He just watches that stuff on his phone.”

Miller winced, apparently upset to know what her son's friends were up to, though at least her son wasn't in the damned photos. “Does his stepfather give him the porn?”

“I don't know.”

“We're going to have a chat with him,” Hardy said. “You go home. And you, Tom, do not say a word of this to Chloe or Daisy.”

“But—”

“No. You should have come to one of us before going to them,” Hardy insisted. He should have known about this a hell of a lot sooner. To hell with his PTSD, he was sick of being treated like he was broken. He could handle knowing about Daisy. He was nauseous, but he hadn't puked yet. An irritating voice in his head said he was still in shock and didn't know what he was feeling. “This isn't a matter for you to handle on your own, especially when there's a rapist in town. If this is at all connected—”

“Jesus Christ, Hardy, stop terrifying him,” Miller began. Then she stopped herself. “No, wait. I take that back. Terrify him. Porn. Why?”

Tom stared at his mother. “I...”

“Later, Miller. We need to have a chat with Micheal and Clive Lucas.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Miller have a chat with Tom's friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was too much that ended up not fitting in this, though I did, with a very brief internet search, find an interesting bit that was kind of a missed opportunity for the show, or maybe they ignored it because of Daisy's age, but it turns out that there is actually a legal angle to her subplot that no one even mentioned. I'm a little upset about that, since Hardy as a cop should know about it and never once offered to arrest anyone, even if the exact situation I have here doesn't apply, there's still laws against revenge porn, as it's known, though they're relatively new. Still, that is a possibility the show didn't even touch on.
> 
> Of course I did. I'm trying to cover things the show didn't, after all.

* * *

Hardy stopped just outside the office door, as he had once before, then almost passing out as he tried to ignore his heart condition and finish the Latimer case. Ellie watched him with a frown, afraid he was going to collapse on her, but he pulled himself upright and swallowed, turning back to her.

“I'll meet you at the car, Miller,” he told her, making his way toward the closest loo.

She nodded, needing another minute with Tom anyway.

“When I get home, we are going to have a long talk about this,” Ellie told him, and he winced. “I am glad you came to us, Tom. You did the right thing. We needed to know about those pictures in case it's connected, and even if it isn't, something has to be done to help Daisy and Chloe, because those pictures shouldn't be out there. However, I am very disappointed in you about this porn business. I wish you'd come to me so we could discuss it. Porn isn't real. Sex is not actually like that, and I don't want you getting the wrong idea about what it should be, especially now that you're older. God, you're growing up so fast on me...”

“Mum,” Tom said, embarrassed.

“Right, so we finish this up later,” she said. “Behave for your grandfather, help him with Fred, and if that boy contacts you again or more pictures turn up, you let us know.”

Tom nodded, and she ushered him out. She thought about watching him from the balcony, but she didn't think she should stand up there waiting, and he was fine. He could walk home without getting hurt, and she would check in on him as soon as they were done with the Lucases.

She headed down the hall, stopping in front of the door. Hardy would have just barged in, and a part of her was tempted, but then she also knew that she couldn't unsee that, and he might not be in a stall, even if she was almost sure that his sudden need for the loo had nothing to do with his bladder.

She hesitated only a minute longer and then pushed the door open, stepping inside. She was about to call out to Hardy when she heard someone retching and swore, knowing she was right.

“Hardy?”

He didn't answer, so she crossed over to the stall, finding him leaning back against the wall. He'd gone pale, ashen and shaky, looking about as good as he had when he was dying. He had his eyes closed and was breathing in and out, trying to relax.

She turned away, going to the towel dispenser. She took a couple out and wet them down, taking them over to him. She knelt next to him and held one out, knowing that trying to do it for him would be a mistake.

“Should I take you home?”

He shook his head. “Just... needed a minute.”

“You need a lot more than a minute,” she told him and he managed a weak glare.

“That's my _daughter,”_ he said, his voice full of anguish. “Those bastards have pictures of my daughter. Pictures she said she didn't take, at least according to your son. They might not have stopped with pictures. She could have been hurt. And I didn't know. I had no idea she'd even been in that position. Couldn't protect her, can't do a damned thing to stop those pictures... And I'm here. I'm here in this bloody stall, not able to go out and talk to that little shit about what he's done.”

“Hardy, as responsible as Daisy usually is, she's still a teenage girl. She's going to make mistakes. You can't save her from all of them. Life doesn't work that way, and unfortunately, sometimes the responsible ones are better at hiding it than others.”

He shook his head. “I knew something was wrong with her. I just didn't push. This damned case, and I ignored my daughter while she's dealing with this. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“PTSD, for starters,” Ellie answered, “which is not to say that's your fault or you deserve the blame for what happened, but you're human. You are dealing with a lot of trauma yourself, and this case is making you relive it over and over again. No, you didn't push, but you and I both know that you were going to talk to her about it. Blame me if you want—I kept you from a night at home with her to make sure you ate something. Not that I think you didn't need that, but we ended up not getting any sleep, and of course you're sick now. Knowing what they did to Daisy and Chloe makes me sick, too.”

He looked at her. “Maybe you should have forced me off this case.”

She considered that, and she did hate what this was doing to him, but she also knew no one else would be right for this case. Rape should get to everyone, and it annoyed her that she didn't see half Hardy's dedication in anyone else on the case, not even that little upstart Katie.

“Or maybe right now it's time to stoke that anger to a boil,” she said. “Let's go talk to Micheal Lucas. Scare the shit out of him. No less than he deserves.”

She held out a hand to Hardy, and he only hesitated for a moment before taking it.

* * *

“Micheal Lucas?” Ellie asked the young man who opened the door. She gave him a very thin smile, about as angry as angry as Hardy was, having stewed a bit on their way over. She was not Daisy's mother, not Chloe's, but that wasn't important. She didn't think anyone deserved pictures like that spread about, and certainly not those two. They were the daughters of her friends, and not only that, they'd already suffered. They didn't need more heartache.

“Yeah.”

“You know who I am, don't you? DS Miller,” she said. “Tom's mum.”

“He's not here.”

“I know he's not here. I want to talk to you,” she said. “You want to do that on the doorstep, or would you rather let us in? And while you're at it, you should probably get one of your parents here for this conversation.”

Micheal's eyes darted to Hardy. “I don't understand. Why are you here?”

Hardy snorted. “You have the gall to ask me that? Did you or did you not distribute a picture of my daughter to your friends at school? Ah, there, that gulp. You know exactly what I'm talking about, so don't bother denying it. The hell do you think you're playing at?”

“I didn't take it,” Micheal protested. “I got them same as everyone else.”

“No, not the same as everyone else,” Hardy said. “Tom Miller didn't get them at the same time as 'everyone else.' I'm betting that's because whoever did take those pictures knew that he was close to both the girls. You're the idiot that showed them to him, but then I suppose I should be thanking you for that because that way I knew exactly who to come to.”

Micheal shook his head. “I didn't do anything wrong. This isn't—you can't come here as cops. It's not a crime, sharing photos.”

“Actually, it is,” Ellie said. “Daisy and Chloe are still minors in the eyes of the law, and that means that a photograph of them in that state is illegal. Distributing it is a crime. We can charge you with that right now.”

“Frankly, since it was my daughter you did this to, I'm of the mind arresting you is too good for you,” Hardy said. “Now go. Get your legal guardian, because you are going to answer for this.”

Micheal nodded, turning to call for his mother, running to find her, even though the flat was rather small and she should have known they were there by now.

Ellie looked at Hardy. “You know that if it was to go to court, any defense lawyer would argue bias and probably get the case thrown out since Daisy is your daughter.”

“The hell do you want me to do, Miller? Turn those pictures over to some incompetent DS who is going to drag my daughter through the mud? Not bloody likely. No. Too many people have seen that photograph as it is. I want to know who took it, and I want to stop it being distributed. And having been through a trial like this... no. It's better if it doesn't go there.”

“You think they'd blame her, don't you?”

“She's got a bloody bottle of alcohol in her hands. Of course they will. That's what's infuriating about this sort of crime. Somehow the victim is always to blame.”

Ellie couldn't deny that, and she didn't bother trying. She saw Mrs. Lucas entering the room. She had a feeling they were about to ruin her day, and she didn't really deserve that, even if her husband was a cheating bastard and maybe a rapist.

“Micheal said you wanted to see me?”

“Not exactly,” Ellie told her. “We need to interview your son, and he needs an adult with him.”

“Micheal? But I thought you were investigating that rape that was in the papers,” she said, frowning. “That's got nothing to do with my boy.”

“Your son has been passing around child pornography,” Hardy told her without a shred of mercy. Micheal stared at him, shaking his head. “Those photographs were of girls under the age of eighteen. Even if they had been shared with their consent, it is a crime.”

Mrs. Lucas stared at her son. “You... you have naked photos of girls? And you... shared them?”

“It was just...” Micheal looked at her, helpless. “I didn't mean any harm. I was just passing along what I got. It wasn't anything.”

“Not anything?” Hardy demanded. “That is my daughter you were humiliating and violating with that picture, and you don't think you've done anything wrong? What about the rest of your porn? Does that involve women getting dominated, hurt during sex? Because it wouldn't take much for you, would it? If this isn't a crime, then maybe you didn't see sex with an older woman at a party as a crime.”

“No, I swear I had nothing to do with that,” Micheal said, looking desperately at his mother.

“You had pictures of those girls,” she repeated. “And other porn.”

“My mate Leo gave me the porn,” Micheal said, and Ellie looked at Hardy. This wasn't the same Leo as that swaggery little shit, was it? This seemed almost too easy, too simple, and she didn't know that she could accept that. “I... It was something to cheer me up after Dad... he hit me during a match. Leo was just taking my mind off what he'd done. He showed me some stuff, that's it.”

Hardy folded his arms over his chest. “Is Leo the one that gave you the pictures?”

Micheal shook his head. “No, but he liked them. Said your daughter wasn't as much of a prig as he'd thought she'd be.”

“Oh, really?” Hardy asked. “Do you have any idea what the father in me would like to do to you and all of your friends? The laws and responsibilities as a police officer that I would gladly ignore because you and the rest of them hurt my daughter?”

“I didn't mean to,” Micheal insisted. “I just... Leo gave me a place to fit in when my dad was being an arse. He said he understood what it was like. I thought he was... I wanted to be like that, help others. No one was speaking to Tom because of what his dad did, but I did, and I shared the stuff Leo gave me because I was being a good friend. And because the other boys liked what I showed them and they were acting like friends again. I needed that. That's all. It was just... It was stupid.”

Ellie saw a tear roll down the boy's cheek, wondering just how far he would have gone to please Leo and these other friends of his, what he might do. Could he have hurt a woman or a girl because of them? What if they had found Daisy again? Or Chloe?

“I want to know who took those pictures,” Hardy said. “I want to know everyone who has them and has seen them. And I want to know where you were on the twelfth. I don't think you were home, were you, Micheal?”

“I think we'd better be having a solicitor,” Mrs. Lucas said, staring at her son in disbelief. “You shouldn't say any more without one, Micheal.”

* * *

“Don't say it,” Hardy said, not wanting to hear it.

“What, that you pushed too hard?” Miller asked, shaking her head. “You were remarkably calm considering what he did to your daughter. We'll talk to them with a lawyer, get the information we need. You are going to have to talk to Daisy, because your instinct to spare her a trial might not be what she or Chloe wants. What concerns me is that Leo is involved.”

“He only mentioned the one name,” Hardy reminded her as he went to the passenger door. He wouldn't have trusted himself to drive even if he wasn't feeling like vomiting again. He could have thrown the case, and he knew it. 

He should be mad at Miller for not stopping him, but if he'd had to sit back and do nothing—no, that was worse. Daisy might not agree, but he'd lost so much control when Joe Miller attacked him, and to have his daughter fall into that same nightmare was his worst fear. She'd been almost lucky, they were only photographs. That didn't make it all that much easier, but she hadn't been physically harmed, at least not that he knew.

“We both know it was that little shit,” Miller said as she opened her door. She sat down behind the wheel. “It has to be.”

“Oh, but it's too easy, Miller,” Hardy said, sitting down and pulling his door shut. “We don't like this kid. He's pushing all our buttons and lying to us. Then we find out he's sharing porn with minors. He's at least seen the pictures of my daughter and Chloe Latimer, and he may have shared those, too. Some of that porn might have included non-consensual acts, according to your son. So we put that together and suddenly we have a very credible suspect in Leo Humphries. And we both want it to be him because he's such an arsehole.”

“Well, we also wanted it to be Aaron Mayfield,” Miller said as she drove away from the Lucas house. “Then again, Micheal was vulnerable to Leo in part because of Clive, and we know he lied about his whereabouts that night. So where does that leave us?”

“With a bit of leverage against Leo's girlfriend, maybe,” Hardy mused. “She might not know about the porn. And she might not be willing to lie for a child pornographer.”

“No one should, but people do,” Miller said. “God, half of them still believe I knew what Joe was up to and did nothing about it.”

Hardy snorted. “I know you didn't. The Latimers know you didn't. None of the rest of them matter.”

“What are you going to say to Daisy?”

He shook his head. He had no idea. He didn't want to think about it, either.

“This isn't her fault.”

Hardy almost snapped his neck, turning to look at her. “Why the hell would you think I thought that? Are you insane, Miller? I don't blame Daisy. I'm angry, yes, because she was in that position. Because she drank. Saying she's to blame for that is like saying I wanted your husband's hands on me, and there is no way in hell that's true no matter how stupid I was not noticing he was driving the bloody cab. It's the same damned thing, and for once you actually didn't assume that.”

“There's just no pleasing you,” she grumbled. “I was just trying to say that I hoped you could keep your anger about all of this contained to the boys that passed that picture around and not take it out on her. Might not have said that the right way, but I'm tired. I'm stressed. We just found out there are more victims, and then my son brings us this, and it's your daughter. Beth's daughter. It's a nightmare. I feel myself coming close to breaking, and I don't know how you're doing it, any of it, because by all rights you should have given up before this even started, and that's not right but it might be true. God, I hate this. We have to find this man. We have to stop those boys. We have to get justice for Trish and the girls and make this right somehow.”

“That's the real problem,” he said. “Nothing makes this right.”

* * *

“Daize?”

She heard her father call her name and winced. She hadn't been able to find out anything about who took those pictures or gave them out. She figured most of the kids had to be lying because they denied seeing them, but they must have. She knew some of them had been laughing and staring, and now they were lying about having seen the pictures.

She didn't know what she was going to do. She couldn't confront someone she couldn't find, and she didn't know how to stop it without finding that person.

She didn't even know if it would be enough to remind them that pictures like that were illegal, since she wasn't eighteen. She was a policeman's daughter, but they'd probably figure she was bluffing about telling her dad, and she would be, since she didn't want him knowing.

“In here,” she called from her bed. “Just finishing my homework.”

He came into the room, crossed over and sat at the foot of her bed. He looked awful, completely awful. She hadn't seen him this bad since he got out of the hospital. She swallowed, nervous.

“Is it your case?” Daisy asked. “I... I know you're working on that rape case, Dad. Leah told me you had her mum's case, and from how everyone reacted at the beach, I knew she was the one in the paper. I don't know how you can do that after what Joe Miller did to you, and maybe you shouldn't because you don't look—”

“I know about the pictures, Daisy,” he said, looking over at her. She choked. How did he know? Was this connected to Leah's mum? Daisy swore she didn't feel like she'd had sex that night, but she might have been close considering how naked she was in the photo. She was lucky she'd somehow gotten home. “Why didn't you tell me?”

She shook her head. He didn't have to ask that. “You know why.”

“I'm not mad at you. Well, no, I'm angry you were drinking because you know better—”

“I swear, it was only a few sips. We didn't have that much,” Daisy insisted. “I went back to the punch they had for the rest of the night.”

Her father snorted. “And never thought maybe that was spiked?”

She winced. “Not until now, no, but that makes a lot of sense considering I don't remember that last half hour.”

“What?”

“I—Dad, I was fully dressed and so was Chloe when we started sobering up back at her house. I didn't have any bruises or anything. I don't remember the pictures, but it didn't go farther than that,” she said. “I'm almost sure of that.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “Almost sure is going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”

He knew that too well, so she didn't try and argue that with him. “How did you find out? Was it part of your case?”

“Don't know for sure yet. Tom Miller came to us.”

“What? He said he wouldn't tell you.”

“He was concerned about what the boy he spoke to might do after he tried to tell him not to spread the pictures,” her father told her. “And it's a damned good thing he did, since you wouldn't have said anything to me. Daisy, this is a crime. You know that. And you can't just ignore it because it embarrasses you. Someone who is willing to spread a naked picture around of you... one taken without your consent... that's a dangerous precedent.”

“Oh, like you wanted to tell everyone what Joe did to you.”

“I didn't,” her father admitted, sounding tired and almost broken. “I still don't, and I hate that everyone knows, but I still got up there and I testified. And Daize... it might be your turn to do that.”

“What? No. I don't—”

“There were three boys that morning at the house. One older boy that Tom's friend showed your picture to who could very well have passed it around to dozens of boys his age,” her father told her, and she shuddered. “We need to stop this. And that could mean a trial. With my connection to it, they probably wouldn't accept a plea and would try to get it thrown out because I was involved and I'm your dad. And I just want to throttle that boy. I want to cut off his—I want to hurt him for hurting you. And Chloe. And God knows who else.”

“You really want to arrest whoever took that photo?”

Her father reached for her hand. “Aye. I told you. I want them hurting. Prison's too good for them, but I'd settle for that. Only it's not just my choice. I need to know that you are willing to take it all the way to court if we have to. You and Chloe are going to have to decide if that's what you want.”

Daisy bit her lip. “They're going to say I was... asking for it. That I wanted to take the picture and didn't care who I sent it to.”

“You didn't, and the law doesn't see it that way. You're a minor. It's still a crime even if you were willing to do it, and you weren't,” he said. “Come here.”

She did, crawling over so he could hold her in his arms. “Mum's going to use this to take me away from you, isn't she?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was brought to my attention that I wasn't clear on how this story is not following the show's timeline. Mostly, I fear because I wasn't willing to figure out the exact timeline myself. It goes something like this: season two ends, Hardy gets in a cab only to learn that Joe Miller is his driver. Then he's tortured but found by Ellie and Daisy in time. He spends some time in the hospital. Joe's second trial comes, and Hardy has to testify. After that dust settles, he eventually goes back to work as DI. It's probably more like a year to a year and a half since season two, leaving Daisy still a minor during this story. Not that the other crime, revenge porn, wouldn't possibly apply to Daisy on the show, it's just different with her being underage.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie and Hardy have to decide how to go forward after the case's last turn, with decisions to be made by Beth, Daisy, and Chloe as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get myself temporarily (I hope) stuck on my other story, and I ended up switching stories to make progress, but this one was hard, and this is where I think a lot of what I have will be different from the show, and not necessarily in subplots, but there were things I decided I was changing, and other plots I have to pick up on and add to, but I thought that last bit was... well, the sort of cliffhanger I like ending on sometimes.

* * *

“You look like hell.”

Hardy grunted, stepping out of his door and shutting it behind him. Ellie frowned, though she figured he must want to talk to her without a chance of Daisy hearing them. She almost didn't want to know what he was about to say. She doubted he'd gotten any rest—she hadn't—and there were a lot of unpleasant decisions that had to be made today.

“Daisy's not sure about trying to pursue charges,” Hardy said, and Ellie nodded. She'd have a hard time doing it herself. On the one hand, it seemed like the right thing to do, make sure they got punished. On the other, this kid Micheal was just a kid, making stupid decisions. Not only that, but it would be difficult for Daisy and Chloe, since those pictures would become evidence, and people Daisy's father worked with would see them.

“There are some reasons why it might be better not to,” Ellie agreed. “The complication of you being Daisy's father and the investigating officer. The whole department knowing about those pictures and seeing them and going through other internet and phone histories of our suspects in their distribution. Then maybe we won't be able to get them for rape, if this is connected. And we have to worry that if it is, some arsehole might decided only to pursue the lesser charge or none at all.”

Hardy nodded. He'd clearly been over that more times than he should have last night. He leaned against the house, letting out a breath. “Daisy thinks Tess will use this to get custody.”

“Bloody hell,” Ellie whispered. “You think she's right?”

“Tess will be furious when she finds out, and she will blame me for allowing it to happen. I blame myself, not saying I don't. And she wasn't happy about Daisy pushing to stay with me. In among her many complaints, she said Daisy was throwing her life away to take care of me, so... aye, I think it's a strong possibility.”

“Damn,” Ellie said. That could not happen. Hardy needed his daughter, and Daisy needed him just as much. He was struggling to be a dad with his cases and how traumatized he was, but that didn't matter to Daisy. Being with him did. “You can't let that influence your decision about the charges. If these boys are involved in this—”

“I know,” Hardy said. “I don't want Daisy at school until we know the identity of the photographer and anyone else involved in this. And we have to talk to Chloe, see how she feels about the charges. Plus the CS, since there's a good chance that she'll want to pull me off the case. She did before, and now it's worse.”

Ellie nodded. She didn't want to think about how close this case was to falling apart. She couldn't let that happen. “Did you want to start with the CS?”

Hardy shook his head. “Chloe. We need to know what she wants done about this. She wants charges, we'll need a different strategy with the CS. If she doesn't, then... well, it might not matter. It depends on what we find out from Micheal Lucas. Did Tom tell you anything about his other friends?”

“Only that he thinks most of them are on the football team, same as his father and Leo. They might be older. They never seem to be around Micheal when he's at school. Apparently, that kid is a bit of a loner, keeps to himself... Might have been a good target for this Leo if he is truly behind all of this. I'm not sure if it is like that. Tom seemed to think Micheal was a good kid other than the porn. I don't know. I never really met him. Said hello, he never said much back, was rarely at the house... at least, not when I was. God, I didn't even know my son's friend. Just like before when I didn't know that Tom and Danny had fought.”

Hardy snorted. “Like I knew that my daughter was out drinking and getting photos taken of her while she was near naked. We're both shitty parents, Miller. And don't pretend I have an excuse.”

He did, but that didn't mean he'd ever accept that. “You know, you're not as bad as you want to claim. You have done a lot for Daisy despite the fact that you're struggling. She loves it here even when she's worried to death about you. She's happy, well-adjusted, and this thing that happened, that wasn't your fault. That was something you couldn't predict, but you can make sure they pay for it.”

He nodded. “I will.”

She thought that was a little unsettling, since his daughter might not go for charges. She didn't want to think of him possibly going after them on his own, the sort of vigilante justice they'd almost given Joe and she almost wondered if they should have, every time she saw Hardy these days.

He looked back at the house, opening the door. “Come on, Daize. We need to go.”

* * *

“Ellie?” Beth asked with a frown as she opened the door, not sure why the three of them were on her doorstep. Soon as Chloe was off to school, she'd been set to meet with her supervisor so they could both talk to the other victim, but she hadn't done it yet. And it was strange that Daisy was with Hardy.

Oh, God. Had they pulled Hardy off the case? Would they do that because of what Joe did to him?

“We need a word, Beth,” Ellie said, her expression troubled. “With you and Chloe, I'm afraid.”

“Chloe?” Beth asked, looking at Daisy, who lowered her head. Her father prodded her inside, and she ducked in, not really looking at them. “Chloe, get down here, now.”

Hardy followed after his daughter, and Ellie stayed close to Beth, putting a hand on her arm. 

“It's not great,” Ellie admitted, “but it could have been worse, a lot worse, and thankfully it isn't. Still, the pictures... they're not the sort of thing we'd want anyone seeing.”

“Pictures?” Beth asked as Chloe came down the stairs. “What pictures?”

Ellie took out a phone and showed it to her. “Tom got these from a friend. Apparently, they've been circulated all around the school and possibly a few other places. We're not sure of the extent yet. Tom's friend clammed up on us after a bit. He did claim he wasn't the one to take them or the first to share them.”

“Oh, God,” Beth said, looking at her daughter posed near naked. She knew Chloe had a boyfriend before, but she didn't think her daughter was into this sort of thing. “Chloe, you did this?”

“No,” Daisy said, and Beth looked over at her. “Neither of us agreed to take any pictures. We didn't know they'd been taken.”

“It's true, Mum,” Chloe said. “We found out a couple days later from Tom. He showed us.”

“You didn't know,” Beth repeated, looking from the two girls to Hardy and Ellie. Both of them seemed grim, which made this whole thing a lot worse. 

“We... It was just a few mates of Chloe's, and we had a bit of fun,” Daisy said, going redder than her hair. “Both of us hadn't had that much to drink, I swear. I thought... it was like two glasses, and then I switched to punch. Dad says he thinks the punch was spiked.”

“Oh,” Chloe said. “God, that makes so much sense. Because by the end of the night, we couldn't... we got back, and there was a bit neither of us remembered. That must have been when the pictures were taken, that's what we figured after... the kids were acting weird at school.” 

“We didn't pose for them, not that we remember, and we didn't say anyone could share them,” Daisy said. “They did all that without asking us.”

“Bloody hell.”

“We need to know how everyone wants to proceed,” Hardy said. “As both of them are still minors in the eyes of the law, this could be considered child pornography, and we can pursue that. It might be difficult, however. They may raise objections to me being lead on this when my daughter was victimized. And we don't know how far this reaches or if it connects to the other case.”

Beth winced. She did not want her daughter suffering like Trish was. This was bad enough, and she was struggling herself with what Trish had been through. “Does that mean the case could get thrown out? Like the confession was?”

“There is a possibility,” Hardy agreed. “We will be meeting with the CS as soon as we're done here, and I will do what I can to minimize any damage to the case.”

He looked exhausted, and she didn't think he'd slept all night. Of course, she wouldn't have, had she known. She'd had a hard enough time sleeping after what she'd heard about another possible attack.

“Would we have to testify?” Chloe said. “And... they're just going to say we were drunk and took those pictures willingly. I mean... it looks like we did. Not that we did, because I wouldn't have if I wasn't... God, this is such a mess.”

“We can decide not to pursue charges,” Hardy told her. “It's your choice.”

“I don't want to do anything that would jeopardize the case,” Chloe began, looking very nervous and upset. Beth wanted to hug her close like she was as little as Lizzie again, hold her tight and save her from all this.

“It may have already have been,” Hardy admitted. “I don't know that it hasn't been due to all three of us being involved. At the same time, I'm not liking the idea that they won't have some kind of punishment for what they've done. No one deserves what they did.”

“Agreed,” Beth said. She looked over at her daughter, seeing the conflict on both girls' faces. “Why don't you give us some time to talk it over? Go ahead like we'll proceed with the case, and we'll see how we feel when we've talked it over.”

Hardy nodded. “I'd like to keep them both out of school until we've identified the responsible parties and I don't want them alone.”

Daisy stared at him. “Dad—”

“I'm not being paranoid. People might try to intimidate you into silence,” Hardy said. His daughter flinched. Chloe swallowed, looking nervous. Ellie winced, getting more upset as he added the next bit. “They did with Miller's son.”

“What?”

“It's fine,” Ellie said. “They didn't hurt him, just... more like tried to bribe him, but Tom did good. He stood up to them. Oh, damn. I forgot to pull Tom today. Let me see if Dad has taken him in yet.”

Beth nodded. Ellie left the room, making a call as she did. Beth looked back at Hardy, not sure what to think. He seemed worn thin, and what she saw in him now she'd seen in other assault victims. She'd helped them as much as she could, but she didn't know that Hardy would accept any of that. And now they had the girls to worry about. She could stay with them for a bit, help them, but she was afraid none of this was enough.

And if this meant Trish's case... what was Beth going to do? She would have to back off one or the other, but she didn't even know which one. If Chloe wanted charges, would Beth have to find someone else to help Trish? That could be devastating for her, but how could she ignore the needs of her own daughter?

She didn't know what she would do.

* * *

“Are you telling me our case is completely compromised?”

Ellie winced. She hoped not, she really did. “It's a small town. Lives are bound to intersect. All of ours connect, whether we mean them to or not. No one so far has raised an issue with my best friend being Trish Winterman's ISVA, but now that her daughter was preyed on by these boys with the photographs, that could change.”

“It could, and it very well may have to,” the CS said, shaking her head. “God, this is a legal nightmare. I'm going to have to get them on this, let them sort it out. Are you sure this is connected?”

“Not yet. We have names from Chloe Latimer of those present at the house before the girls became... too intoxicated to function, but that's not a guarantee that they were the only ones there, no,” Hardy told her. “We have Micheal Lucas coming in later for a formal statement. He's supposed to tell us who gave him the pictures. He was not present according to Chloe or Daisy, but again, we can't be sure of that. What we do know is that he passed the pictures along to at least one other boy.”

“And your daughter is still a minor,” the CS said. She grimaced. “Any chance she doesn't want to file charges and we can decide that while a crime has been committed, it doesn't need formal action?”

Hardy's expression hardened, and he glared at their superior, two seconds from losing his temper and being thrown off the case, if Ellie judged correctly. She opened her mouth first, hoping to spare him that much and salvage part of their case.

“The girls haven't decided on charges yet, but we don't want this to become a thing,” Ellie said. “No one should think that it's right to take pictures like this without consent and spread them about. I don't care if those girls were drunk or if they said yes, it's still wrong. We can't let that slide, especially not with a rapist about. We don't have proof that's connected, but what happens if we don't stop them and they go on to think that this sort of thing doesn't matter? If a boy doesn't respect a girl enough to realize sharing this sort of photo is wrong, how far are they really from a man disrespecting a woman's body enough to use it without her consent?”

The chief superior winced. “God. I see your point, but we are looking at one hell of a mess if this thing is connected. We could lose all these cases at trial.”

“We could do everything right and lose the damned cases at trial,” Hardy snapped. Ellie grimaced. That had almost been the case in Joe's second trial, though she supposed some people would argue her inclusion in the search for Hardy was breaking the rules. “This is my daughter we're talking about.”

“All the more reason not to balls up the case,” their superior said. “We wouldn't want any mistakes.”

“And I don't want those arseholes to walk free,” Hardy said. “They got her so drunk she took lewd pictures. They could have done a hell of a lot worse. None of us knows for sure that they didn't. So don't you tell me that I should drop this because we might not win the damned trial.” 

Ellie knew he was right. If this was Tom, she'd want charges, too. She'd hate it if the trial went badly, and she'd lived that nightmare once with Joe, but she'd feel worse if she did nothing, which was what they seemed to be asking Hardy to do. She couldn't accept that, either. 

“With all due respect, sir,” Ellie began, and Hardy turned his glare on her for a second, but she focused on the chief super. “What kind of a message does it send if we don't do anything about the daughter of one of our own being attacked like this?”

“We may have to pull you both off both cases,” the CS warned them. “And I don't think you want Trish Winterman's rapist going free, either.”

“I have no intention of letting that happen,” Hardy grumbled. “If it takes me stepping down from the case, I'll do it, but I'll be damned if I'll back down from doing what's right for either of them because there's a chance we'll lose in court. There may be as many as four victims from this rapist, and my daughter and her friend bring the total of women exploited around here up to six.”

Ellie's phone buzzed at the same time as Hardy's and the chief super's, and they all frowned as they checked the message.

“Make that seven,” Ellie said, looking over the message. “Leo Humphries' girlfriend is in hospital.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and Ellie visit the hospital, and what seems straight forward is perhaps not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that the show didn't go into the character or the relationship much, so this with Danielle is all my own creation, but I kind of thought maybe she might be like this. It certainly would explain a bit about why she'd lie for Leo and also do what he wanted when he was grooming Micheal.
> 
> And yet again, another subplot didn't make it in, but maybe next chapter. I haven't forgotten it, but it keeps not fitting with the rest of it.

* * *

“How is she?” Ellie asked. “Can she talk?”

The nurse nodded. “More or less. She took one hell of a beating, didn't want to let us touch her. We've got her patched up now, and she's resting comfortably, but it may be difficult for her to say anything given the damage done to her face.”

Ellie winced. Hardy said nothing. He hadn't spoken since their meeting with the CS, and Ellie wasn't sure she blamed him. The idea of protecting their own had fallen very short today, even if it was his daughter who needed it, not him. Maybe it was because the CS already had her doubts about Hardy being able to handle this case, maybe she felt that it would be easier to get Hardy to step down if she pulled support from his daughter's case and solve all her problems. Ellie didn't know.

She just knew this case was going to destroy him one way or another, and she wasn't sure that she could do anything to stop it now. Maybe if she'd pulled him from it at the start, but now? Now it felt like it was too late and trying to get him to step down would be the worst thing, shattering what was left of his self-esteem.

“We'll need a few minutes with her,” Ellie said, and the nurse nodded. She left them by the door, and Ellie stepped in, almost knocking but deciding not to when she saw Danielle. God. Did Leo do this? She wanted that little shit, but not at the cost of this girl. “Danielle?”

She didn't answer, but judging from that bruise on her face, she really shouldn't do any extra talking or nodding.

“Danielle, you remember us, right? DS Miller, DI Hardy,” Ellie introduced them again as she went closer to the bed. “We spoke to you before about Leo's alibi. Looks like we need to have another talk. Do you feel up to that now?”

Danielle managed a nod. “Knew... you'd come.”

“Yes, we did,” Ellie said. She took a breath and asked the most obvious question. “Danielle, did Leo do this to you?”

Danielle hesitated. She started studying her hands.

“You don't have to go back to him,” Ellie told her. “We can protect you from him. We've already sent uniform around to pick him up, so don't you worry about that right now. Just tell us... did Leo do this to you?”

She nodded again. “Was... stupid.”

“In your choice of boyfriend, maybe,” Hardy said, and Ellie frowned at him. “Has he ever been violent with you before?”

She shook her head. “No. Just... He was... spent money, showed me a good time. Had fun. Liked him, even if... bit smug.”

“This is more than a bit smug,” Ellie told her. “Did he ever show you any sign he might be violent with you before?”

Danielle swallowed. “Once... showed me... porn. Fifty shades stuff... but worse, I guess. Didn't like it. He never showed... again. Just seemed like... curiosity. Worst... ever did... asked me to... to make a man... out of a friend... of his.”

“Micheal Lucas,” Hardy said, and she nodded again.

“He... sweet. Shy. Liked him. Was... fine, but... then...”

“He told you to do it again,” Hardy finished for her, and she frowned at him. “We know he wanted you to trade that favor to another boy so he wouldn't talk to us. He did anyway. Is that why Leo hit you?”

She looked away. “Told him no... never do. This... did. Shouldn't have.”

“No, you did the right thing,” Ellie told her. She didn't look back at them. “Danielle, he had no right to ask that of you, and you didn't have to do it. You had every right to say no.”

“I don't say no to him,” the girl repeated, sounding a lot like she was blaming herself for this, which was wrong on so many levels. “If I hadn't... He wouldn't have thought...”

“He thought you'd tell us the truth about his alibi,” Ellie finished for her, and Danielle sighed. “You two didn't go for kebabs that night, did you?”

Danielle shook her head. “Used to... work... farm shop. Went to Cath's party.”

“Did Leo go with you?”

Danielle nodded. “Lost track... of him... hour or so... in... went home... alone. Don't know where... what he did.”

“And you thought it was okay to lie about that?” Hardy asked, and Ellie almost reached over to smack him. Even if Danielle had lied about where they'd been, there was no proof that Leo was the rapist, even if they both wanted to lock him up.

“He never... not before...”

“Only now he's shown he can and will be violent,” Ellie said, feeling a bit sorry for this girl. She hadn't seen it coming, not really, and it shouldn't be like this, but it too often was. “So you never saw him after the end of the party?”

She shook her head. “He came 'round mine later... Real late. Was drunk. Laughed, wanted sex, was a bit... rough. Went to bed after.”

“How often was he rough with you?”

“Not often. Knew I didn't like it. He was drunk,” Danielle said. “He... only got rough... if he was drunk. Shouldn't have... if I'd just done what he said...”

“No, you shouldn't have to do that for anyone,” Ellie said. “What he did to you was wrong, and we can arrest him for that.”

Danielle shook her head. “Wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't... I hit him back when he hit me. Didn't think... I had it in me, but I hit him, and he...”

“You were defending yourself,” Ellie said, wishing she could make this girl understand that she wasn't the one in the wrong here, but she was in a relationship so toxic she didn't even understand what Leo had done to her. She was like so many other victims of abuse that saw the whole thing as their fault and defended their abuser, thinking they deserved it.

“He's not what men are,” Hardy said, and both of them frowned as he spoke. “Leo. He's not what men are. No one deserves what he did to you, and all women deserve better than him. Don't think he's the best you can do. He's not. He's a cockroach compared to that, and someday you'll know it.”

Ellie thought that was surprisingly kind of Hardy, and she wished he'd been that way more with Trish, but then again, domestic abuse didn't push the same buttons that rape did for him. Maybe it should, and he did have experience with being cheated on and betrayed by his wife, but he was actually reassuring this one. Maybe he saw her more like Daisy?

“We're going to let you get some rest now,” Ellie told her. “And he's right. You do deserve better than Leo.”

She walked to the door with Hardy, following him out into the hall. He was moving faster than he should, already half down the corridor by the time she had gotten to the door. She hurried to catch up, not sure if he was rushing off to vomit again or not.

* * *

“That was nice of you.”

“I wanted to yell at her,” Hardy admitted as they walked toward the car. He had. He'd wanted to shake her until she understood the truth of her situation and what she might have allowed to happen in lying for that bastard. “I wanted to—but I've seen it before. She's in this so deep she thinks their relationship is normal.”

“It's not,” Miller said. “You're right. He's not what men are. Not that there are many good examples around here these days, but you're one of them, at least.”

Hardy snorted. “That doesn't say much.”

She nodded. “I'm not saying it does, but my father's a bloody backwards in time chauvinist, God knows what he's teaching my sons. Jim Atwood cheated on his wife on her birthday with her best friend. Leo Humphries is an abusive little shit and a possible rapist... My nephew's a man whore, Mark Latimer also cheated on his wife, Nige Carter is a poacher... Who's left?”

Hardy didn't mention Paul Coates. He didn't share her apparent fondness for the vicar. “You'll think of them later. Meantime, we need to make sure we have Leo's home and business searched. I want his computers and his phone searched for the pornography.”

“And the pictures?”

He nodded. “I hope to hell they're not on there, but the way things have been lately, I bet he has them all and has edited them, little shit.”

“God, I hope you're wrong,” Miller told him. “Daisy and Chloe didn't deserve that. If I find out he was there, I don't know that I will be able to control myself. Look at what he did to Danielle.”

“He's a good candidate for our rapist, that is true,” Hardy said, though something was nagging at him. “We still need those other victims to come forward, tell us what they know. We don't know if this was all the same man.”

“We'll get to that. We should get back to the station. Micheal Lucas should be coming in with his mother and their solicitor, and we'll have Leo to talk to about the assault, too,” 

Miller said, reaching up to cover a yawn. “Bloody hell. When this case is over, I want a week off someplace nice.”

“You're a cop,” Hardy reminded her. “You can't afford someplace nice.”

She turned to him with a frown. “Shouldn't you say I live someplace nice? Tourists come here for the beaches and all.”

“You know I hate it here.”

“Ah, right,” she agreed. “Of course. How could I forget that?”

He gave her a look, not sure why she was trying to make lame jokes right now after that. He supposed some people coped that way. He didn't, and most of the time it just made him angry. “We have too much coming at us at once. We need to know if these things are connected or not, the pictures and the rapes.”

“We can start with Micheal Lucas when we get back,” Miller said as they reached the car. “Let Leo stew, since we already have him for assault. We'll need the time to search his place and his computer. Brian is not going to be happy with you—wait, what about that person you had look at Tom's computer when you found out he'd smashed it? Do you think you can call in that favor again and get through Leo's stuff faster?”

“I'm surprised you think I have favors left to call in,” Hardy said, sitting down in the passenger seat. He leaned his head back against the chair. “When you arrested Joe, he had a phone.”

“Yes,” Miller said, sounding confused and a bit worried. “Why?”

“Just a phone.”

“Just a phone. A burner, one he must have bought just before killing the cab driver. Only made the call to have the cab pick him up,” Miller said. “Why?”

Hardy pulled on his seat belt, not wanting to ask but knowing he needed a damned answer to quiet at least one part of his brain. “He didn't use the camera, did he?”

Miller swore, loudly, and it seemed to echo around the car. She leaned her head against the wheel. “I've no idea. They never told me. Did... do you remember him doing that? Taking pictures of you?”

Hardy leaned his head against the window. “No. Maybe. It's hard to tell sometimes what's real and what my mind is distorting to make things worse, but when I saw the pictures of Daisy...”

“I'll find out,” Miller said. “We'll find out. Brian would know. I... Maybe that's nothing, just a nightmare.”

Hardy didn't have to tell her that wasn't reassuring at all.

* * *

Paul tried to organize his thoughts as he walked toward the police station. He wanted to be concise and clear so that he gave the police what they needed and avoided a prolonged conversation with DI Hardy. He did not need any more of that man's bitterness coming his way, and while he wished there was something he could do to help, he already knew Hardy would not just laugh off the offer, he'd twist it around into something unholy.

No, best to avoid that.

He reached the steps, stopping to help a young woman who almost dropped something from her stack of plastic dinner containers. “Careful there. Almost lost one.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he assured her, trying to place her. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't place her. She wasn't one of his parishioners, not a regular in his church or any other that he was aware of, but that didn't mean that she wasn't local.

“Ugh,” Chloe Latimer said as she jogged over to join them. “Why do I always get stuck with people wanting to talk my ear off? Or ask about how we're doing? Like I need a reminder that my brother is dead.”

The other girl grimaced, and not just because the containers almost fell again. “Sorry.”

“Let me take some of those,” Chloe said, helping herself to a couple containers. “Mum made enough for an army again.”

“I just hope he eats some of it,” the other girl said, and Paul tried again to place her. He should know her if she was close to Chloe.

“Me, too,” Chloe agreed. “Oh, hi, Paul. Sorry, was in my own world, almost didn't realize anyone else was here.”

He was used to that sense of being invisible. “Hi, Chloe. What brings you to the police station?”

Chloe frowned. “Uh...”

“I don't like it, Miller,” another voice said, one that Paul was expecting to hear, but when he got inside, not out here. “It's too bloody easy. He's premeditated enough to bring supplies to the party, but he slips up and loses his temper with—Daisy.”

“Hello, Dad,” the girl said, lowering her containers and giving him a smile full of affection. Hardy's daughter. Of course, that explained it. Paul had seen her around in passing, but given her father's intense dislike for religion, he wasn't surprised he didn't know her well and hadn't recognized her.

“What are you doing here?” Hardy asked.

“We thought we'd have to come down and make formal statements and since we did, we brought lunch,” Daisy said, holding up the plastic for her father to see. He did not seem pleased.

“Mum dropped us off not far from here,” Chloe added. “She said she'd be back by after a quick errand. Didn't say what, but that she'd have something for both of you later when she was done, she hoped.”

“You brought me food,” Hardy said, ignoring Chloe and staring at his daughter, looking a bit green at the words.

“Please try and eat, Dad,” Daisy told him. “I made something that should be easy on your stomach.”

“Oh, you didn't have to do that,” he said. “Really, Daize. You shouldn't have.”

“Bless,” Ellie said, taking over the conversation. “Thank you both. Daisy, take your father on up to his office. Don't look at me like that, Hardy. You can take twenty minutes for your daughter. As long as Chloe doesn't mind sharing with me?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, Paul. I'm sorry. I can't believe I didn't see you there. Did you need me?” Ellie asked. “Go on, Hardy. Daughter. Food. Be human.”

Hardy grumbled to himself, but when his daughter looked at him, he forced a smile that was unbelievably tender for such a harsh man. She shifted the containers, wrapping an arm around his and walking in with him.

Paul cleared his throat, aware of how awkward this whole situation was. “I got some more information from my parishioner and I thought I should tell you since she still refuses to talk herself.”

“Okay,” Ellie said. “Let me get Chloe settled, snag a bite, and I'll get with you after that.”

* * *

“Can I ask,” Paul began. “Those girls... They're not—”

“You know I couldn't tell you that,” Ellie said, sitting down across from him. She opened up the container Chloe'd given her and picked up a fork. “I hope you don't mind. I haven't had a chance to eat yet. No appetite at breakfast and it's been nonstop since then.”

“I bet,” Paul said. “I just thought... well, if this isn't about the vandalism and is perhaps more serious, you could let them know that I am available to help if they'd like, if I can in any way.”

Ellie nodded. “I can do that, I think. Chloe knows you were a help to her mum and dad with Danny, but Daisy... I've never been brave enough to ask if she shares her father's opinion of religion. Not that I'm admitting anything happened or that they'd need your help, just warning you that you might not be making the most welcome offer to the Hardy house.”

“I'm well aware of that,” Paul told her. “Hardy made his dislike for me very clear during the Latimer case, and his continued distance leads me to believe his feelings haven't changed.”

“I doubt it,” Ellie said. “Some people search for something to believe in after a crisis. Others use that trauma as confirmation that there's nothing left to believe in.”

Paul grimaced. “I don't care for the sentiment, but I can't deny there's truth in it.”

Ellie nodded, taking another bite of her food. “What did your parishioner tell you?”

Paul swallowed. “She said... She'd told me the first time that he hit her. When I talked to her again, he said he'd hit her, must have been on the head because she said she woke up with her hands tied behind her back. She couldn't breathe because he put something in her mouth. And then he assaulted her, though she can't even say that part.”

Ellie almost dropped the food. That was too much like their other rapes to be a coincidence. “Where did this happen?”

“In a field,” Paul answered. “She didn't say which one, just that she'd been out later than she should have been, dressed pretty—or like a tramp, according to her father—and had on a skirt. She'd been on her way home, and she was hit. I think she said it was after sunset, but she tends to get upset and asks me to leave if I push for too much detail. This is all I've gotten since I spoke to you last.”

Ellie set the food aside. “Paul, I'm going to need you to describe this woman.”

“If you're planning on using that to find her—”

“No, I want to know why it sounds like she is telling almost the same story as one of our victims who _did_ come forward,” Ellie said. “It almost sounds like this woman was the same one, but if she was, she's come to us, so it doesn't make sense. And she didn't mention the father thinking she was a tramp.”

“She's older,” Paul said. “I think the disease may affect just how old she looks, but I'd say... oh, sixties? Maybe? I'm not sure. She's been keeping this a secret for years.”

Ellie stared at him. “Is there any chance she... God, I hate myself for asking this, but is there any chance that she's confused? That... it was more recent?”

“She's been rather housebound for years now, from what I understand,” Paul said. He looked at Ellie, frowning. “Does that mean that this is the same person? He's really been doing this for what, forty years now?”

Ellie didn't know, but if that was true, then it couldn't have been Leo Humphries.

What the hell was going on here?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie and Hardy assess the conflicting information and talk to Leo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have... possibly too many subplots. It's still hard to deal with them, but I did get a chance to work on a few more, which should help with the one that may have seemed like it was dangling and forgotten and also with another that can help with a loose end from the show.

* * *

“Mind if I borrow him for a minute?” Ellie poked her head in Hardy's office, forcing a smile for Daisy. She didn't want to interrupt, but she knew that she had to talk to Hardy sooner rather than later, and Daisy wasn't likely to go anywhere, not when they didn't actually have someone to take her statement. Hardy was her guardian, and Ellie was considered biased as well. “Just need to pick his brain for half a moment.”

“I'm not so sure that he has anything left,” Daisy said, and Hardy frowned at her. “Oh, wait, there he is. Sharp as a tack. Watch out, Ellie.”

Hardy shook his head as he went to the door. He followed Ellie out and shut it behind him, leaning against the wall next to it. “What is so important you went back on your damned insistence on me eating lunch?”

“You kept it down.”

“Not the point, Miller. You could get to yours, though.”

“The woman Paul talked to is in her sixties, but her story is almost exactly like Laura Benson's,” Ellie told him, watching him frown. He seemed tired, but at least he'd gotten some food in him.

“What are you thinking, then? That it's not Leo?” Hardy asked, folding his arms over his chest. “We haven't talked to him. Haven't even had a second chat with Micheal Lucas yet. Just eating a damned lunch I didn't even want.”

“I want it to be Leo,” Ellie admitted. “That doesn't mean that it is. If this is the same man, it can't be him because that woman was attacked probably forty years ago.”

He grimaced. “Did he give you a name?”

She shook her head. “He still won't share that, and he insists she won't talk to us. If she didn't have that much detail, I'd think that she might be doing this—”

“For attention?” Hardy asked. “You're thinking this about a victim we haven't met who refuses to come forward? You?” 

Ellie grimaced. “I'm not trying to accuse her of making it up, but it's strange. Her attack is so similar, but it's such an outlier. How does a forty year old case tie into these ones? They're only a couple years apart. Did he leave and come back? Is he really still capable of committing these attacks? He'd have to be in his sixties, too. And we have a very credible suspect in Leo who did hit his girlfriend and is admittedly rough with her when he's been drinking, only if her rape was done by the same man, that was years and years ago. I asked Paul if he thought she was confused, that it was more recent, but he's fairly sure it's not. So how does it fit? Or does it not fit at all?”

“We don't know anything right now,” Hardy said. “We have to get her to tell us herself. Or at least get a damned date when it happened, same as we had for the victim we don't know the name of from Beth and her supervisor.”

“I think Beth was going to see her today,” Ellie said. “Maybe she'll be able to talk her into telling us what happened.”

“Maybe.”

“I asked the CS how she wanted to handle this, and she said she was going to have someone from a neighboring office take Chloe and Daisy's statements,” Ellie told him. “So we have to wait on that. Want to have a go at Leo since Micheal seems to be running late?”

“You think he's done a bunk?”

She shook her head. “Not necessarily. I think his mum is worried out of her mind and she may have asked her husband for help, and I bet you can guess how much support he was. So they're slow. Maybe Clive thinks it's nothing and doesn't want to pay for the lawyer.”

“You're giving them all a lot of credit.”

Ellie shrugged. “Maybe I don't want to believe it was Tom's friend. I don't know. What I do know is that we have a smug little shit that deserves to be taken down a peg sitting in there waiting for us. Let's go have a chat with him, shall we?”

* * *

“It seems you have something of a temper,” Hardy said, setting down a folder on the desk and taking a seat across from Leo. He leaned back in his chair, studying the other man. A part of him was sickened, his stomach ready to lose the meal Daisy had more or less forced on him, and the rest was so angry he'd like to throttle that little shit right here and now. “Do you often get mad like that, Leo?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Leo said, and Hardy heard Miller snort next to him.

“Yes, you do,” Hardy told him. “We know all about what you did to Danielle. Bit of a stupid thing, hitting her that badly and expecting her not to tell anyone. She needed medical care, and that's not easy to hide.”

Leo glared at him. “You think you know everything. You don't.”

“I know I have you for assault. I know you weren't getting kebabs on Saturday. I know you were at Cath Atwood's party, and your girlfriend didn't see you for hours. I know you get rough when you've been drinking,” Hardy listed them all off, pleased that his voice gave away none of his inner turmoil. He could almost picture Joe Miller in the boy's place, looking smug as he had when his second trial almost got dismissed. He forced the comparison from his head. “Am I missing anything, Miller?”

“His interest in violent porn and even child pornography.”

“What?” Leo demanded, shaking his head and caught off-guard. “I didn't do that. I'm not into kids. That's sick.”

“Oh, it would seem he has some semblance of a conscience after all,” Hardy said, shaking his head as though he didn't believe it—because he didn't. “You do realize that someone under eighteen is still considered a minor. A child. You told Micheal Lucas you liked the pictures of those girls, didn't you?”

“What girls?”

Hardy opened the file and took out a photograph of Chloe. He didn't dare use any of the ones of Daisy. “Recognize this?”

“Seriously, this is what you're calling child pornography?” Leo asked, shaking his head. “That's not porn. That's not even—and she looks eighteen.”

Hardy gave him a long, hard stare. “You expect me to believe that you don't know how old she is? That you don't know _who_ she is? In a town this size, that's bullshit, and I'm not that stupid. You are, thinking I'd buy that. I don't. You know who she is, and even if you didn't, as you claim, you were discussing her with Micheal who very likely mentioned that she goes to school with him. You know how old that makes her.”

“And we should discuss you distributing pornographic materials to a minor as well,” Miller said. “You gave Micheal porn.”

“So? He's not a baby. He's a man.”

“And you know that because you told your girlfriend to have sex with him,” Miller said. “Charming, you are, pimping her out like that.”

“She agreed. It wasn't a problem.”

“It was when you told her to do it again,” Hardy said. “She said no, so you hit her.”

“That was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding,” Hardy repeated. “That's a new one on me. I've heard abusers call it all kinds of things, but that one, that's actually the first time anyone's tried to pull that excuse. Accident is more common, even a bit more plausible, not that I've ever believed that.” 

“She hit back, trying to defend herself, and you beat her, left her unconscious and bleeding in her kitchen,” Miller said. “There is no _misunderstanding_ that. You hurt her, and don't think she's just going to take you back after what you did.”

“Danielle understands.”

“No,” Hardy disagreed. “No one understands that. You've taken a vulnerable girl and twisted things about so she thinks you're a good man and she's always at fault, but that's not true. And she might not have seen what you were before, but now she knows what you'll do to her. She's scared, and that's how you want her, but that's not where it ends. Because she knows. And she can still choose to leave you. She should. She'd be better off with a cockroach.”

Leo frowned. “I don't think you—”

“Tell us about Axehampton,” Hardy said. “What did you do at the party?”

“You think I raped that woman?” Leo asked. “You've got it all wrong. You shouldn't be looking at me. You should be looking at Ian. After all, he's the one who asked me to put all that stuff on her computer so's he could spy on her.”

* * *

“What do you think?”

“I think he's guilty, and he's throwing Ian under the bus to avoid suspicion,” Ellie said. She rubbed her temple, feeling another headache coming on. She wanted to tell Hardy that she'd been impressed by him in the interview room, but he'd probably just snort and think she was being patronizing or something like that. She wasn't, she'd genuinely appreciated what he'd done and how he'd coped with that bastard.

“Aye, seems like it,” Hardy agreed. “Doesn't mean we can ignore it. We need that computer.”

“And we'll get it,” Ellie said, rubbing her neck. “I know we have him for at least his attack on Danielle. We can get him put away for that, but is that enough?”

“He doesn't respect women, and you threaten him because you're a woman in authority, and that he can't stand. He's almost a classic case, narcissist and misogynist, even maybe a borderline sociopath. He was willing to admit to installing spyware, but he didn't think it was a crime when he did it, and he claimed that was just because it was Ian checking up on his wife. We both know that if he really ever believed that, he wouldn't have told us to try and throw us off him and get us pursuing Ian.”

“I hate that we have yet another direction tugging at us and not enough time to get to the ones that we've already got. We need to deal with the photographs. The other victims. Everything.”

Hardy nodded. “We've still got time to hold Leo, and we can go back at him when we have more forensics. Send that irritating DC over to collect the laptop from Trish.”

“You want Harford to do that?”

“That woman has put up with me several times. She can take Hartford in a small dose,” Hardy said. “Or did you mean Hartford? All she has to do is collect the laptop, and so far she hasn't screwed up evidence collection by some small mercy.”

Ellie almost smiled. “Look at you, doling out the praise.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“I'd tell you to go check in on Daisy, but I'm not sure you've got time. Looks like Micheal and his mum are here, and we should talk to them.”

* * *

“There some reason you're standing outside my house like vultures?” Mark asked, looking at Maggie and then at Olly. “The story's been done already. Dan's old news.”

He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, and he didn't bother to, not when his life was never the same after that and he couldn't help blaming the press some. They'd vilified Jack Marshall, but not just that—he'd had his grief exploited by that Karen White, and he hated knowing that.

“This isn't about Danny.”

“You're sure?” Mark asked, suspicious. “Seems like everything's about him, even the things you think aren't. Every time I turn around, there's a reminder. Something he liked, something he hated, something he outgrew, something he never got to do... It never ends.”

“I know,” Maggie said, trying to be gentle. “Losing someone is a hurt you never get over, even if sometimes you get lucky and get them back later. It doesn't erase years of pain and loss. And when they can never come back... Well, there's no cure for that.”

“Except maybe staying busy,” Olly said, and Mark frowned at him. Maggie elbowed him. He flinched but kept on talking. “You have noticed a bit of an increase in your business of late, haven't you?”

Mark shrugged. “Tourist season tends to be busier. They break stuff.”

“Yes, but it's not just that, is it?” Olly pressed, and Mark could only frown at him.

“Maggie, why did you bring this idiot here? Can't you send him off to some big paper where he can be stupid and leave us here in peace? I'm just trying to get by, that's all. Some days, it's not so easy, and then I get you two on my doorstep making it worse,” Mark muttered, not sure he wanted to know what Beth wanted to talk to him about later. Maybe she was going to kick him out for good this time.

“What Olly was trying to imply was that you've actually profited from the recent increase in vandalism,” Maggie said, and Mark stared at her. “You've done a lot of repair work for the places that were hit, including all of the ones that were attacked more than once.”

“Wait a damned minute,” Mark said. “Are you accusing me of vandalism?”

* * *

Katie got out of her car, turning to grab the laptop she'd collected from the victim. She tried not to be upset by the fact that the woman wouldn't hand it over until she'd talked to Ellie Miller and then DI Hardy to confirm that Katie was worth trusting, not even her badge was enough, but she was still seething a bit.

She wanted to be a cop, she'd pushed hard and learned fast, and she was ready for this job. She worked hard, and she did good, but it never seemed to be enough for either of those two, and neither of them hid their contempt for her, even if Miller once apologized for Hardy taking it out on her.

She supposed telling the CS she thought he shouldn't have this case was just petty—she'd come to that conclusion a while back now, but when he was at his worst or stuff like this happened, she got tempted all over again.

She heard something behind her and stopped to look around. She swore someone was there, but she couldn't hear anyone.

She shook it off, taking the computer from the seat and locking up the car behind her. She stopped, looking at her window with a frown. She could see a reflection in the glass. She turned, looking around, but still nothing.

She shivered and started inside, unable to escape the feeling that someone was watching her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case gets more complicated and undermined further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea for the tail end of this mid way through the story, and I admit, it's probably going to make things a lot worse, but it felt right after all that led up to this.
> 
> And I suppose I'm a bit evil, too. I did skip over the parts with Jim Atwood and part of the bit with Ed Burnett, mostly because they didn't really change until the part I did go into.

* * *

“Tell us when you first started getting porn from Leo Humphries,” Hardy said, looking at Micheal Lucas across the table. His solicitor sat next to him, but his mother was with Miller in the other room. He was stuck with some officer he didn't remember the name of, and he doubted that it was important.

“I dunno. Maybe a year ago.”

Hardy leaned back in his chair. “Do you think it's wise to lie to me? Because if you do, I should tell you right now, it's not. I can always tell, and it just pisses me off. So we'll start over one more time. You will tell me the truth, and not only will this go faster, but you won't make me angrier than I already am. And you know you don't want that.”

“Was that a threat, DI Hardy?” the lawyer asked, and Hardy gave him a look.

“It was a statement. He doesn't want me angry. I'm hard enough to deal with when I'm not,” Hardy said, catching a smile on the other officer's face. “Did that amuse you? Because you're bloody useless over there, and I'd rather you went to go find Miller.”

“Uh...”

Hardy ignored him, turning back to Micheal. “Did you want to tell me when you first got porn from Leo Humphries? And don't say you don't remember. These things stick in your mind. You think I don't know that, but I do. Was a boy once myself. I still remember my first dirty mag. Helps that my dad near took off my hide for seeing it, but I never forgot. Same as you don't forget your first kiss. First time. Those things stick with you.”

Micheal looked at his hands. “It was last year. Summer league with the footy team had just started. Dad... He lost his temper during a match. He hit me. In front of everyone. Leo... he took me home, started talking to me. He... he seemed like me. He was the only one. Dad was... he...”

“He was hurting you,” Hardy finished. “You needed a friend, and Leo seemed to be one. He gave you porn. Did he do that the first time you talked?”

Micheal shook his head. “No. It.. it was a couple conversations later. We were texting, and he passed me a picture of... a girl.”

“Was that girl his girlfriend?”

“No, but... he gave me pictures of her later, especially after...”

“After you had sex with her,” Hardy finished for him. “Was that just the once or did he encourage you two to do it again?”

Micheal twisted up his lip. “I... I kind of...”

“You liked her, didn't you? She wasn't just anyone to you, but she was Leo's girlfriend, and while he had shared her once, he controlled her, didn't he? If it happened again, it would only be because he let it,” Hardy said, disgusted by Leo's behavior. He could use a minute to get some air, feeling his stomach turning and threatening to lose his lunch. He took a breath, let it out, and forced himself to go on. “Did you have any further contact with Danielle?”

“She gave me her number.”

“You were talking to her behind his back. Did he ever find out?”

Micheal shook his head. “Not that I know of. We didn't talk much, just a few times, but she actually liked me. She said I was sweet.”

In some ways, this one was an improvement over her last boyfriend, though not by much.

“Did you take the pictures of Chloe Latimer and Daisy Hardy?”

“No.”

“Where did you get them?”

Micheal looked at the solicitor. He nodded. The boy swallowed. “From a mate. Dave Jones. He knows Chloe, I think. Used to be friends with her boyfriend Dean until he left town. He never said he was the one that took them, only that he had more. He and James Green, they seemed to be the ones passing them around to everyone.”

“Those the boys you were with when you came by my house?”

Micheal nodded. “We'd run into Leo, and he said that if the girls had done that much, they might be willing to do more. Dave and James, they agreed and wanted to see if they could get the new girl to come with them alone. Only she wasn't home, and you yelled us off the property.”

“Damn right I did,” Hardy said. He only wished he'd done more, considering what these little arseholes had done to his daughter. “These other boys, they were friends with Leo, too?”

“They knew him. Seemed to like him, but everyone likes Leo. And he might have given them some porn before or bought them alcohol. I heard him say he could hook them up, and I think he had, but I wasn't there.”

“You weren't there, you didn't see them take the pictures. Yet you passed them around.” 

“I thought they'd done it on purpose,” Micheal said. “And I only gave them to Tom Miller. I swear. I thought... I'd shown him porn, and he seemed to like it, so...”

“You forgot he used to be friends with Danny Latimer, Chloe's brother.”

Micheal shook his head. “I didn't think he'd be that upset, seeing her. She was pretty. He might even have seen stuff before because he was Dan's mate. I didn't know. Then he said I had to stop passing the pictures around, and I got a bit worried, and I called up Leo. He said he'd make it right.”

“Are you aware that his definition of making it right was to tell his girlfriend to sleep with Tom so that he'd keep quiet?”

“What? She wouldn't do that.”

“Why not? She did it with you?”

“She said that was different, and she wasn't about to screw all his friends,” Micheal said, wincing. “She told me that I was the only one, and she wasn't going to do it again. If he asked her to do that, she didn't.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“No,” Micheal admitted. “It's just... just what she told me.”

Hardy nodded. “Well, as it happens, your friend Leo put her in the hospital for giving him that no.”

“What? He hurt her?” Micheal asked, horrified. “He couldn't—he didn't—he—”

“Were you with Leo on the twelfth? Did you go with him to Axehampton that night?”

* * *

“I'm not a bloody vandal,” Mark snapped. “If that's what you think, you can get the hell out of here. I don't believe this. First I lose my boy, then his killer gets away with it, and now you're making me the criminal?”

“We noticed a pattern,” Maggie said, trying to be soothing. “It would have been wrong of us to ignore that.”

“Yeah, well, your definition of wrong needs a lot of work,” Mark grumbled. He couldn't believe they'd come here to accuse him of that. “What, you thought I went around sabotaging people so I could keep busy now that Dan's dead?”

“Well,” Olly began, and Maggie frowned at him.

“No, we thought that there was a possible connection,” Maggie said, still trying to be diplomatic. “Vandalism went up since your son's death, and then too, it seemed like everyone who'd been a repeat victim used you for repairs.”

“That's got nothing to do with me,” Mark said. “I am just trying to keep my head above water. I do my job, I go through my day, and I try to pretend I haven't lost everything in losing Dan. What the hell would I want to go around vandalizing places for? Maybe if I could hurt Joe Miller, I would. I'd harass him if he was still around, but we made him leave. We gave him mercy, and he went out and killed someone else. And he almost killed Hardy, too. I should have done it then, but I didn't, so now I just go through the motions.”

Maggie grimaced. Olly started to speak, but she pulled him away. “We're sorry to have bothered you, Mark. We'll leave you alone for now.”

He watched them go, frowning. He didn't know what would make them think he'd want to do that. He might have done some things like that when he was a kid, but he was grown now, had a family to think about, even if half the time Beth didn't seem to want him around.

He had Chloe and Lizzie. He had to provide for them, didn't he?

Still, something nagged at him, and he had no idea what it meant.

* * *

“DI Hardy?”

He looked over from the door, and Ellie thought he wanted to strangle whoever dared speak to him right now, tired as he was, but he just glared, somehow looking menacing despite being dead on his feet. Bob being who Bob was, he took it in stride and didn't so much as flinch even as Hardy spoke.

“What the hell is it now?”

“Uniform got called to a disturbance at Jim Atwood's garage. He's been beaten up. Thought that would be of interest to you.”

“It is,” Ellie said. “Thank you, Bob. We'll get on it.”

Hardy forced himself away from the door. “Just when you think you've managed to pin something down... Fine. Let's go see what happened to Jim and if this is connected.”

“We could send someone else to—”

“No, we're going,” Hardy said, starting down the hall. “What did Mrs. Lucas have to say for herself about the porn?”

Ellie grimaced as she followed after him. In some ways, that woman reminded her of herself, though she hoped she wasn't ever that naïve. “She had no idea there was porn going around the house. She said if she'd found it, she probably would have thought it was Clive's, not some friend of Micheal's or even Micheal's. She was not aware of it or the pictures. She didn't even know Leo had befriended him. It was a harsh wake up call for her.”

Hardy nodded, stopping to open the door for both of them. “Micheal gave the names of two boys that Chloe said were there that night. Seems they were also the ones that came to my house. I got the feeling Micheal believed Dave Jones was the photographer.”

“You think so?”

Hardy took in a breath and let it out, slowing his pace a bit as he admitted, “I'm not sure. Micheal said the other boys knew Leo as well, and it was supposedly Leo's idea to try and find Daisy that morning because they thought they could get more from her if she was willing to pose like that.”

Ellie winced. “No. Not if she was sober.”

“That's part of what worries me,” Hardy admitted. “She wouldn't have said yes, and I doubt she would have taken any drinks from them willingly, so they couldn't get her drunk on spiked punch again. And without that—”

“They could have really hurt her if she'd tried to say no,” Ellie finished. “God. We have to find them and arrest them. I want them to know they're not getting away with this. Daisy is going to be safe. We'll make sure of that.”

Hardy nodded. “Now we just need to find out what this angle is with Jim Atwood. It keeps looking like Leo is our boy, but then this happens. And we still don't have the results on Ian. Damn it.”

“We're narrowing things down,” Ellie said, and he snorted. They both knew it wasn't fast enough.

* * *

Ellie came back from the farm shop, her evidence in hand. She almost hadn't wanted to let Hardy come back with Ed Burnett, since that meant another solo interview for him when he was already dragging, but she figured that was the better place for him. He'd done well from what she'd seen, back in his element when he was in that room, and he had control there, something that he lacked everywhere else. It was good for him.

And this search was long and time consuming, but she had something, she was sure of it.

She also knew it made things complicated all over again, because this strongly pointed toward Ed Burnett as being their guy, and they'd been very close to tying it all together and putting it on Leo. She wished things would stay clear, but they'd see all of it through eventually.

She passed by a room and saw Harford at a station, listening to Hardy's interview. Good, she could prep this stuff while the other woman got him. “Katie, can you get the DI out of the interview room - for me, please?” 

Katie didn't even look at her. “You'll have to do it yourself.”

Ellie stared at her. What the hell was this? She'd asked nicely, and she was exhausted after a long day and searching the shop. Katie did not need to be listening in to that interview, either. She had the time to do what Ellie asked. “Are you refusing to do what I just asked you?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Katie said, not seeming all that bothered.

Ellie glared at her, losing her temper. “You are in so much shit when I get back here.”

She went around to the interview room, opening up the door and letting herself in. Hardy didn't even look at her as he continued asking Ed questions.

“So Cath Atwood asked you to beat up her husband?” 

“No.”

“She knew you were going to?”

“No.”

Curious as Ellie was about all of that, she couldn't let that go on. “DI Hardy, I need to talk to you urgently outside.”

“What?” Hardy asked, frowning. He shook his head, frustration and fatigue all over him. “Do you not see I'm in the middle of something?” 

“Yes,” she told him, hating herself for having to interrupt, “but I might have something important.”

He grumbled, officially pausing the tape and record and stepping out of the room with her. He shut the door behind him, leaning against the wall as she showed him what she had.

“Recovered from the farm shop,” she said, holding up her bag of evidence. “Florist cards identical to the one that was on the flowers left at Trish's house. I'm gonna have them and the original checked for Ed's prints.”

Hardy nodded, and she held up another bit of evidence. He gave her a look for that one. “Beetroot? You brought back—Oh.” 

“Exactly,” she said, pleased that he'd caught it even in this state. “All the farm-grown vegetables sold in the shop are bundled together with blue twine. So if I test these fibers against fibers found in Trish's wrist wounds—” 

“I need to talk to you both,” Katie interrupted, and Ellie glared at her again. Unbelievable. Two seconds ago, she couldn't be bothered, but now she thought she had something that was more important than anything else, didn't she? 

“Not now, Harford.”

“I should have told you a while back.”

Her tone made Ellie pause. She saw the same concern on Hardy's face. “Should have told us what?”

“Ed Burnett's my dad.”

* * *

“Tell me you're kidding,” Hardy said, not even sure why he was bothering to say it. Nothing had gone the way he'd wanted it to this case, and it wasn't about to start now. Not that he wouldn't have had a lot to say if Harford was joking, because it was a piss poor time for it, but this could not be happening. With all the damned complications and possible accusations of bias that were hanging over them, this was the last straw. It was done. They'd never be able to prosecute it.

“No.”

“Ed Burnett, the man we have in custody,” Hardy said. “That man is—”

“I didn't think it mattered,” Harford said, and Hardy could only stare at her. How the hell could she not think it mattered?

“He's a suspect,” Miller said, doing her own turn of staring in disbelief.

“But he—” 

“He was on your list,” Miller said, almost snapping at her. “You knew, all this time, and you never said a word.” 

“I checked with him at the start and he said he didn't know anything,” Harford said, like that somehow made it better, but of course it didn't, it only made it worse.

“Do you know what you've done?” Hardy asked, but it was clear that she didn't. She didn't know what she'd done, and she might not even care. “You have to leave immediately. Do not touch anything. Do not take anything. Don't speak to anyone or contact anyone in any way. In fact, give me your mobile phone.”

She didn't seem willing to give it up, but she did, holding it out to him. He didn't take it.

“Put that in a sealed evidence bag,” he told Miller, who quickly did, her own anger simmering just under the surface, about as ready to explode as his was.

“Sir, I promise, I—”

“No,” he said. He couldn't hear anything from her, and he didn't want to, not when he couldn't see any way of salvaging this or any reason why she wouldn't know that what she had done was wrong. “Keep your mouth shut. We have a suspect in custody, and you cannot be here.”

Harford nodded. “I understand.”

“Oh, really? Really?” Hardy demanded, wanting to go over and shake her, make some sense get into her head. Fury had hold of him, and he found it a bit hard to breathe he was so agitated. “You understand how you might have screwed this investigation?”

Harford seemed to flinch. That was something, but not nearly enough. She didn't get it, didn't understand the gravity of all this, whereas he did. He felt it like a weight pressing against his chest, suffocating him and leaving him weak. 

“If we find out Trish's attacker has any connection to you, this will never stand up in court,” he said, and she started to protest. “No, not a word about the part that involves my daughter. I did the responsible thing. I notified the CS as soon as I had it confirmed by my daughter, and it's not the same thing. She's not a suspect. Your father is. Do you know what it is like when a case falls apart in court?”

Of course she didn't. This was her first big case, wasn't it? 

“If we can't take this to court, you will have to answer not only to me, not only to the chief super, but to the women that he's attacked. Each and every one of them,” he said, and then he felt it, reaching out for support as the pacemaker fired. “Get out.”

“Yes, sir,” Harford said, but he thought she sounded too much like a child angry at being scolded than someone who understood what she'd done.

Bloody hell. He could see the case slipping away from them, not just Trish's, but Laura's and Chloe's and Daisy's... He could feel Joe Miller there, laughing at his helplessness, and the damned pacemaker went off again.

“Sir?” Miller's voice came through to him, concerned, and he tried to answer her, but he couldn't. His heart betrayed him again, and he couldn't keep himself on his feet, everything going black as he crashed to the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy ends up in the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of me thinks that this may have been a misstep for the story as it takes it very far away from the case and the plot that was going, especially that of the show's season. Still, it seemed to fit and feel like a natural development.
> 
> Well, other than the fact that despite having multiple relatives in the healthcare profession, I know nothing about it, really.

* * *

Hardy went down like a ton of bricks, hitting the floor hard, and Ellie rushed over to his side, trying to rouse him. She leaned over, hearing him take in rasping breaths, and that was reassuring, but not enough, not when he wouldn't open his eyes or answer her. She wasn't sure what that was, if he'd had a full heart attack or just passed out because he was weak and stressed.

God, she wanted to kill Katie even more than she had when she'd found out about her being Ed Burnett's daughter.

“Is he going to—”

“You. Out,” Ellie snapped, glaring at Harford. “You may have cost us a hell of a lot more than a case, and you were already told to leave. Get the hell out of here before I have you escorted.”

She turned back to Hardy, digging out her phone and pulling up an app she'd never thought she'd have to use again. His pacemaker _had_ gone off. Damn, maybe it was a heart attack.

“I called for an ambulance,” Bob said, and Ellie looked up at him in confusion, not really understanding how or why he was there, but it was a police station, and Hardy had collapsed in the middle of it. Someone was bound to notice, and she wasn't sure she hadn't screamed for help after he went down. Things were already starting to blur, as they had when Hardy told her Joe killed Danny.

“Thank you, Bob. Um... can you go to his office, get his daughter? Not that I want to scare her, but.. maybe if he hears her voice, he might come around.”

Bob nodded, walking away. She was glad Harford had the sense to be well out of sight now. She didn't know that she wouldn't have attacked her, blaming her for this. Hardy had been struggling, no denying that, and he wasn't taking proper care of himself, but they were working on that. Ellie and Daisy had gotten him to eat, and Ellie had been planning on making sure he slept, but Katie botching their case had pushed him over the edge.

God, this was almost his worst nightmare, wasn't it? Sandbrook all over again. His health failing, the case falling apart because someone under him screwed up, having his family life upturned, while dealing with his trauma, Daisy's, and the thought of losing her again. Katie could have put the nail in his coffin.

And Ellie, she'd let it happen. She would never forgive herself for this. She had to make it right somehow, not that anything could if he actually died. This couldn't be happening. She'd known that this case would damage him, but _kill_ him?

Ellie turned back to Hardy, willing him to wake up and yell at her to get off and stop fussing, to prove he was fine, but he didn't. He should be telling her to work the case, to break one of their suspects, but he was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Dad?” Daisy asked, running the rest of the way over to him. “Dad? Dad, please wake up. Please.”

Ellie's heart broke with her words, and she wished there was something, anything, she could do to guarantee that Hardy would wake up and come out of this.

* * *

“Here,” Beth said, holding out a tea to Ellie. Her friend looked up at her with a frown, like she didn't understand why Beth would be there. A part of her didn't want to be, not after a frustrating day of trying to come to terms with what happened to Chloe, trying to make the right decision about how they should handle that—Beth wasn't sure what that was, and Mark had ignored her phone calls, so he was no help—and trying to convince the other victim to come forward with no success. That woman seemed to care more about people knowing than stopping the man who'd hurt her, and Beth didn't understand it.

All she'd wanted when Danny died was to know what happened, who took her son from her. She hadn't been able to keep people from knowing her son was murdered, and a part of her would have, but not if it meant finding his killer. Hell, she'd talked to the newspapers, hadn't she? She liked to think she'd do the same no matter what crime might have happened. 

She couldn't be sure, but she figured if a man like Hardy could get up on the stand and testify about what happened to him at Joe's hands, she could do the same. Not like she hadn't testified before, though she knew it wasn't the same.

She'd gone to tell Ellie that the woman wouldn't talk to the police only to find Chloe there, upset, saying that Hardy was gone in the ambulance. She'd taken Chloe home, not knowing where Mark was and needing someone to watch Lizzie, before coming to the hospital.

She knew she needed to be here, tired as she was. Ellie was exhausted, the strain all over her, and with her was Daisy, barely holding herself together.

“How is he?”

Ellie shook her head, keeping her arm wrapped around Daisy, who kept looking at everyone that passed by like they'd have news of her father. “No word yet.”

“They said that his pacemaker might not be enough,” Daisy whispered, her voice conveying her horror at the thought. “That it can't manage his arrhythmia any longer.”

Beth frowned. She didn't want to believe that was what it sounded like. Was Hardy actually dying? God, that couldn't happen. Daisy would lose her father, Ellie her friend—even if that friendship was strange and inexplicable—and Trish's case would fall apart. “What does that mean?”

“He has an underlying condition. The pacemaker was only managing it, and if it can't control it, then...” Ellie took a deep breath. “There's a remote chance of a transplant helping, but most likely... heart failure. Well, permanent heart failure this time.”

“God,” Beth whispered, sitting down next to her friend. “What happened? I know you've been pulling some long hours, and you said he wasn't eating a lot, but that shouldn't have caused this.”

“No, I think this was stress,” Ellie said. “I know he's not been sleeping well, but he was so good in the interrogations it was like none of the rest of it happened. I never did tell him how impressive he was. Should have, since I think he deserves to know he's still as good a cop as he ever was.”

“You'll get a chance to tell him,” Beth said, trying to be encouraging even though she knew she couldn't guarantee anything. “Way I figure it, Hardy's too stubborn to die in the middle of a case. Don't you think?”

“Sounds like Dad,” Daisy agreed quietly.

Ellie held her close. “Yeah, it does.”

* * *

“Any sign of his doctor yet?” Ellie asked as she came back to them, and Daisy shook her head. She was starting to think that her father was dead and no one had bothered to tell her. She knew that they were supposed to tell Ellie—her father made her his emergency contact and gave her all that medical power of attorney stuff—he'd said it was until Daisy got older, but he might not live to see that, if he wasn't already dead.

“No. Was that your boss?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. I should have called her, but I didn't, and she's worried.”

“Not about Dad,” Daisy said bitterly. “She's worried about the case.”

“You really are your father's daughter,” Ellie observed, sitting back down next to her and Beth. Chloe's mum hadn't left, and Daisy was a bit glad and a bit worried. She didn't know what it meant to have her there. “The CS is a bit concerned about turning the suspects we have in custody over to a DC, especially after—well, she'd rather someone else handle it, and since I know the most about the case besides your father, she wants me there.”

Daisy supposed she understood that. “You can go, if you have to.”

Ellie frowned. “Is that what your father would do? I suppose he might, that seems a bit like him, at least if he he knew you were with someone he trusted. Still, he's not the one working. He's the one in here, and while he might expect people to leave him, I can't. God, I should. I should go finish this case and give that woman peace and closure and do the same for you, Daisy, but I... All I keep thinking is that I should have been able to stop this. I didn't know Katie was lying to us, but I knew he was tired. I should have taken him home instead of back to the station...”

She put a hand to her head and sat down, guilt all over her. Daisy knew that her father would have wanted to stay no matter how bad he was. This wasn't really Ellie's fault. Her father wouldn't have told her how bad it was. He never told anyone.

“I told the CS to get someone else and I'd brief them. She's afraid we'll run out of time, and I should go, but no one's told us anything, and I just can't leave like this. Not like this.”

“They're wrong to ask that of you,” Beth said, reaching over to comfort her. “I know we need the case done, and not just for Trish but for the girls, but that's a lot of pressure to put on you right now.”

“I've been going over it in my head,” Ellie admitted. “When I'm not worrying about him, I've been thinking through the case, and I... Beth, I know it's late and you're exhausted, too, but do you think you could try talking to Paul Coates for me?”

“Probably,” Beth said, frowning a little. “What's Paul got to do with this?”

“He had someone tell him she was attacked, and she won't come see us, but I was hoping maybe he could get you in to see her, too,” Ellie began, and Beth stared at her. “I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm not doing it lightly. You have plenty to do for Trish, but I need to know if this older case is connected, because that would eliminate most of the suspects if it is.”

“I don't know. I wasn't any use trying to get the other victim to talk to you,” Beth admitted. “I tried, both of us did, but she just won't.”

Daisy sighed. “Dad would want you to try. He'd want anything that could help with the case, so if you could, then please do.”

Beth nodded. “I'll give him a call in a bit.”

“Thank you.”

Beth gave her small smile. Daisy stood, needing to pace, and almost bumped into a man in surgical scrubs. She backed up, frowning a bit when he seemed to stay where he was.

“You're here for Alec Hardy?”

“That's my dad,” Daisy answered. “Where is he? How is he? He is going to be all right, isn't he?”

“At the moment, we're not entirely sure,” the doctor began. “We've done a battery of tests, which is what kept us.”

“A bunch of tests?” Ellie asked. “I don't understand—it was a heart attack, wasn't it?”

“There are a few things that are inconsistent with that, and we're making sure that we're covering all of our bases, as they say,” the doctor said, giving Daisy a smile. She knew it was meant to reassure her, but she didn't think it helped much. “We've moved him to the cardiac intensive care unit, and we're going to keep monitoring him overnight.”

“Is he awake?”

“He hadn't regained consciousness, which is one of the reasons why we're still doing tests,” the doctor admitted. “It is a cause for concern.”

“Can we,” Ellie stopped and corrected herself, “can Daisy see him?”

“For a little while,” the doctor said. “Visitation is limited in that unit, but you can see him for a bit.”

* * *

Ellie nudged Daisy forward. She'd hesitated in the doorway, afraid, and Ellie couldn't blame her, not when Hardy was hooked up to that many machines. He looked scary, and he would hate knowing that he was in that state.

Daisy crossed over to the bed. She took his hand, wrapping both of hers around it, and held onto it as she cried. Ellie figured that they'd say that she was breaking the rules, but she didn't care. She went over to Daisy's side. 

She touched Daisy's shoulder, and the girl looked up at her.

“Did you want to... um... should we call your mother?”

Daisy shook her head. “No. She'll... she'll want to take me away from him. Please don't. Not right away. Not until we know he's going to... not until we know.”

Ellie nodded. “All right.”

Daisy swallowed. “I know... I know you should get back to your case and if not that... your family. Just... Don't go. Not yet.”

Ellie knew that even if she'd wanted to, there was no way she could leave after that plea. “I'll be here. I promise.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie continues her hospital vigil, and someone new arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I could say something, but then I'm not so sure I should say it, and so I'm a bit conflicted about it. I'll just see if anyone notices, and then I can explain if need be, but it's unlikely as I doubt I have done anything that recognizable. Just... perhaps a bit unpleasant.

* * *

_“You think that I'm impotent,” Joe said, leaning over Hardy, getting close enough to where he could feel the other man's breath on his skin. He shuddered, unable to pull away, trapped under the other man. “You should know by now I'm not.”_

_Hardy tried not to gag. He refused to puke on himself now, even if the idea of what Joe was threatening made him sick. He wanted to believe it wouldn't happen, but he hadn't gotten free yet, and it didn't look like goading the man would make him kill him instead of carrying through with this._

_Joe pressed his lips to Hardy's skin, moving down his neck and along his shoulder. Hardy turned away, but he couldn't get his body far enough away from the man's touch._

_“This is how you're going to prove you're not a pervert,” Hardy said, forcing himself to look at the man giving his body obscene caresses. “I think you failed.”_

_“I only said I needed to understand,” Joe said, and Hardy had the unpleasant feeling that now Joe had convinced himself that this was what he wanted, that he'd found his understanding and that meant that this was what he wanted and needed._

_“This isn't understanding,” Hardy said. “It's rape.”_

_Somehow saying that word seemed to change everything, and as Joe started in with increased frenzy, and Hardy started twisting and fighting again, feeling his pacemaker fire and knowing that one way or another, this was the end._

Hardy jerked awake, gasping for air, his heart pounding. He could hear beeping and machinery screaming in protest, and he looked around him, blurry eyes finally focusing enough to show a hospital room. He groaned, not wanting to be here again.

“Alec?”

He tried to speak, but he choked on something in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He started to pull at his mouth, and she rushed over to put her hand on his, taking it away from his face.

“Don't. They put a tube in you earlier. Either you stopped breathing on your own or they thought you would,” Miller told him. “I'm not sure. They didn't tell us much, but they weren't sure you'd only had a heart attack.”

He tried to shake his head, and she put a hand on his face. 

“Don't move,” she ordered. “I'll get someone in here to get it out. Just lie still.”

He didn't have much choice in that, so he did, lying helplessly, again, as she pushed a button and they both waited. She looked strange, strained and blotchy, and he wondered if she'd been crying. That didn't make sense. What the hell were the tears for?

“Wait,” Miller called to someone, leaving his side and going to the door. “Get in here. He woke up with that damned tube in him, and he's panicking. We have to get that out of there. Now.”

He glared at her, but he couldn't move to do anything about it, couldn't even say anything. He had to wait for them to come over and take out the tube. The other woman started going through the process of what she was about to do, and he wanted to grab hold of her to make her shut up, but he couldn't get his hand to move.

“Can you just do what you've got to do?” Miller asked, frustrated. “Clearly he's awake and breathing on his own again, so just get it out of there.”

“If his oxygen saturation—”

“Just do it,” Miller insisted. “I'll take what ever hit you want me to take, or I'll even do it myself, but get that out of him before he loses it. I'm not even sure he needed it in the first place—he was breathing on his own when he came here, I know that much.”

The nurse sighed. “Mrs. Hardy, if he was intubated, it was because his oxygen levels were too low. If he's not back up where they should be and I take him off the ventilation—”

“Of course they won't be where they should be,” Miller snapped. “He's in the middle of a damned panic attack because someone shoved something down his throat and he's been through hell at the hands of a demented kidnapper who did things to him you don't want to know about. Look at his heartrate and tell me that's a good thing. Would you just take that out of him so he can talk for himself and calm down already, or do I have to get someone else?”

He thought maybe he should feel a bit sorry for the nurse, but the rules and regulations were not as important to him as getting that thing out of his mouth. He felt like he was choking, and even though he was awake and aware of where he was and who was with him, he swore it wasn't a damned tube in his mouth, and the more he felt like that, the worse he was getting. He tried to sit up again, and Miller put a hand on him.

“Just give her a second,” Miller said. “Please.”

He took hold of her hand, giving it the hardest squeeze he could manage, and she winced. The nurse stopped arguing and took the tube out. Hardy coughed, and she tried to cover his mouth with a mask, but he batted her hand away.

“I think it would be best if you left him alone,” Miller told the nurse, and the woman left, probably in relief, though he found it difficult to care right now.

“Miller?” Hardy didn't think that word sounded right, but his voice didn't feel right, either. Something was wrong with his body. Nothing felt like it should, so heavy and weak, keeping him from moving. At least the damned tube was out of his mouth and he didn't feel like he was choking any longer. “What are you... doing here?”

“You bloody idiot. You have another heart attack, and you ask me why I'm here?” Miller demanded. “Don't tell me I should be somewhere else. You're wrong, and I'm not going anywhere. Well, I might call Beth and ask her to bring back Daisy, but I'll give that a few minutes, since I don't think subjecting her to you in this mood is a good idea, though she'll be glad to know you're awake. Damn, you scared us good.”

He swallowed again, trying to understand what happened. “Harford... the case...”

“There's a new DI coming down to take over,” Miller told him. “The CS and I had a bit of a fight over that, but since I wasn't willing to leave the hospital and we've got several suspects to deal with, we need someone. I'm supposed to advise them soon as they arrive.”

He frowned. “Miller, you... should be there. Now.”

“I needed to be here in case something happened to you, you knob,” she snapped. “And don't say I didn't—you took forever to wake up from that. Or at least it seems like it. Your daughter was very upset, especially after the hospital wanted her to leave. I only go to stay because I'm the one who's supposed to make medical decisions for you if you're not capable of it, and since they were figuring on you being in that coma for days or even weeks, they needed me.”

Hardy frowned, shaking his head. “Go. You don't... need... be here.”

She shook her head. “Lord, you're impossible. You're trying to make me regret worrying about you, is that it? Look at me, you idiot. No case is worth your life, even if this thing connects to Daisy. She wants you alive, that's what matters to her, and you need to start taking better care of yourself. God, do you have any idea how much you scared us?”

He closed his eyes. “Stop... fussing. People... will think... you care.”

She took his hand. “I do, and there's not much either of us can do about that now, so just shut up and accept that I'm not going anywhere.”

* * *

“Where the hell have you been?” Beth demanded as Mark walked in the door. She had Lizzie on her hip, and her angry words upset the toddler, making her fuss again. She swore under her breath at herself, but she couldn't help it. She was tired and anxious, and Mark hadn't once answered her calls. This was like when he was meeting Tom Miller in secret, but she knew he wasn't doing that now.

She'd called Tom. He was worried about his mum, since she hadn't come back from the hospital yet, but he hadn't seen Mark. He asked after Daisy, and Beth had checked on her and Chloe, finding them both asleep, and she was glad of that, because they could do with the rest.

That had just made her angrier with Mark, though.

“Out,” Mark said. “Since when is that a crime?”

“Since I've been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday,” Beth said. “God, Mark, what is wrong with you? Why don't you answer the bloody phone?”

“What are you all over my case for?” Mark demanded. “I had things to take care of, and it was important. I had people—”

“Someone took pictures of Chloe half-naked and shared them around the school,” Beth said. “She's been the victim of a crime, and where have you been? Nowhere I could find you to tell you what happened. Her friend Daisy was with her, same thing happened to her, and then Hardy had a heart attack and ended up in the hospital, and still I couldn't get a hold of you. Both of them have been run ragged, Ellie's still at the hospital now, but they wouldn't let Daisy stay, so that poor girl is here, finally sleeping after worrying about her father all night. Meanwhile, I've got a client that needs my help, another woman to convince to talk to the police, and Lizzie's childminder is sick, so all I have is you, and you weren't there. Again. What is this, Mark? Is this what you mean by showing us we matter to you? Is it?”

Mark shook his head. “It wasn't like that, Beth. I had... we... Maggie and Olly came by yesterday and accused me of being the vandal that's been going around breaking stuff at people's homes and shops.”

“What?” Beth asked, shaking her head. That was crazy. Mark was a lot of things, but a vandal? No. Maybe he might have been tempted back when they were kids, long before Chloe, but not now. “That's ridiculous.”

“That's what I told them, but they said since Danny's death, vandalism had gone up, and since I was someone benefiting from it—people coming to me for repairs—that they needed to ask,” Mark said. He shook his head. “I got angry, and I wanted to go break something or hit someone. I wasn't fit to be around, so I didn't answer the phone for a bit.”

Beth frowned. She supposed that she could see that, but it was still frustrating that he'd kept it from her and that he hadn't been there for their daughter. “I wish you'd said something. I've been going out of my head.”

“I'm sorry. I was preoccupied,” he said. “What you mean, someone sent half-naked pictures of Chloe around the school?”

“Exactly what I said,” Beth said. “She and Daisy were at a friend's house, and they had a spiked drink. That lead to them taking off some of their clothes while these 'friends' took pictures of them. They spread them around the school. Hardy and Ellie found out and were looking to arrest the boys what did it, but they haven't finished that yet, or they hadn't when I left the hospital.”

Mark shook his head. “I want to know who did that. I'll—”

“You will let Chloe handle it. Legally, if that's what she wants. Right now, I'm not sure she knows, but we're not doing something stupid, not now. Just... be here for her. And Lizzie. I need to go see someone about... about a rape, and I need you to be here for the girls. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Mark nodded. “'Course I can.”

Beth reached for her coat and keys. “I hope I won't be long, but be gentle. Chloe and Daisy are both aware of how stupid they were, and they're not denying that. They're hurting and ashamed. Please don't make it worse.”

“What do you take me for?”

“A father,” Beth said. “And knowing how I felt when I first found out, I'm telling you, it won't be easy. Just... be careful. Please.”

* * *

“DS Miller?”

Ellie looked up from Hardy's bed, frowning. She didn't recognize this guy, and she wasn't sure what he wanted. He was not Hardy's doctor, that one had come and gone without being much help, other than saying Hardy wasn't going anywhere for another night, and it worried Ellie that he wasn't fighting that, but at least they'd be sure he was going to make it.

Beth hadn't managed to bring Daisy back yet, but Ellie would do it herself when she went home to change. She was tired and could do with a bit of kip, but she didn't want to leave Hardy alone for long. He might try and discharge himself, and even if he didn't, he shouldn't be alone in case he took another turn for the worse.

“That's me,” she said, reaching up to brush back some of her hair. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so,” he said with a bit of a smile. His suit was rumpled, and she had to wonder just what he was. Solicitor? Could that be it? She hoped this wasn't from Tess, though how Tess knew already she didn't know because Ellie sure as hell hadn't told her and she didn't think Daisy would, either.

He came over and held out a hand to her. “I'm DI Troy. They sent me down to take over for DI Hardy.”

Ellie looked him over. She supposed the suit should have told her that was him, but he seemed a little young—maybe he just had one of those faces—and wasn't really what she'd been expecting. She must have been working with Hardy for too long.

“I would have met you at the station. No one told me you were here.”

Troy shook his head. “My DI was like family. I understand wanting to be here, and I wouldn't make you leave. If you don't mind talking here, we can go over what I should know, as your CS didn't give me much of a briefing before I started down.”

“Yeah, I expect she thought I'd be working with you as soon as you got here,” Ellie said, not really sure what to think. She understood Jenkinson a lot better than she did their new CS, and it was difficult to know what the other woman had been thinking.

“I'd appreciate the help, but for now, I could just use some information to get started.”

“Trish Winterman,” Hardy said, his voice still hoarse. “Forty-nine. Reported an assault... unknown attacker.”

“Oh, you're awake,” Troy said. “I'm sorry. I didn't even realize—”

“Don't need apologies,” Hardy said, trying to sit up. “Just need to know you can do the damned job until I'm out of here.”

Troy frowned, and Ellie wasn't sure if they'd told him Hardy was going on permanent leave or what after this. They might try and medical him out again, even if he might just need some time to recover. The doctors weren't even sure this was a heart attack, and they were still monitoring him for now.

“They probably should have warned you he wasn't likely to stay out of the case even if he is on medical leave,” Ellie said. “It's just not how he works, and this one... it got a little personal.”

Troy nodded. “I understand.”

Hardy eyed him with suspicion, but he must have been too tired to speak because he didn't say anything. He leaned back, taking a few deep breaths.

“Right, as he said, Trish Winterman of West Flintcombe reported an assault by an unknown attacker. It happened at her mate's fiftieth birthday party on Saturday, June twelfth. She was hit over the head, bound, and raped. Her attacker used a condom. There was evidence of premeditation,” Ellie said, surprised by her level of calm repeating the facts because even now they were disturbing. She swallowed. “Um... We took her to the SARC, and forensics swept the area. The fibers from her wrists match a locally made twine that multiple suspects had access to, and the condom wrapper found at the scene matched to a brand that is easily purchased within this area.”

Troy continued to nod as she went along. “So not much to narrow it down, then.”

“We had a guest list of sixty-five men who were at the party,” Ellie said. “We eliminated forty-two of them. Our main focus was on a few men in particular. Ian Winterman, her ex-husband, they had a bad relationship. Jim Atwood, he and Trish had sex the morning of the party, and his DNA was found on Trish. Clive Lucas, cab driver, who lied about his alibi but was there at the party. Leo Humphries, whom we found out later was also at the party and lied about it—he put his girlfriend in hospital, so we have him for that. We've also got Ed Burnett locked up for assaulting Jim Atwood. Hardy was in the middle of interviewing him when our DC interrupted us and told us that she is his daughter.”

Troy stared at her. “Please tell me you're kidding.”

She shook her head. “I can't. She may well have compromised this case beyond repair, especially since there's a possible connection to Hardy's daughter tangling the works, too.”

“What?”

Hardy snorted. “They must hate you, Troy, to dump you in this.”

Troy grimaced. “What is the connection?”

“Someone took pictures of Daisy and another girl, Chloe Latimer, and passed them around the school,” Ellie answered. “They were given spiked drinks and don't remember having the pictures taken. They were near naked, and both of them are under eighteen, which could make this a case of child pornography. We know that the pictures reached the son of our cab driver suspect, who admitted that he was at Axehampton that night with Leo, who has also seen the pictures. They could be involved. Or not. We hadn't gotten to speaking to the two boys that Micheal Lucas gave us as possible photographers when Ed Burnett was arrested.”

Troy looked at Hardy. “Was that also when—”

“Hardy collapsed shortly after giving the DC a bollocking,” Ellie said. “Um... we still need to talk to those boys, and we need to speak to Ian because Leo claimed Ian had him put spyware on Trish's computer so he could watch her without her knowledge. Also, we thought maybe Clive was lying about the night of the party because of Micheal and Leo, though Micheal said the same thing that Leo's girlfriend did—they lost track of him at the party. She said he came by her place later, drunk and rough with her. Micheal said he didn't see him again that night, right?”

Hardy nodded. “Tell him... Mayfield... and the other women.”

“Right,” Ellie said. “Um... there is a local sex offender, Aaron Mayfield. He's on parole. He said he wasn't involved, but his alibi is crap, and he hassled our DC while she had him under surveillance.”

“This the same DC that—”

“Yes,” Ellie said, putting a hand to her head. “The case is a mess, but we were still hoping to salvage something before Harford's admission. I don't know if that's even possible now, but for Trish's sake and the sake of the other women involved—we may have as many as three other victims that we know of, and if one goes back as far as we think it does, then we could have dozens more because this man may have been active for more than forty years.”

Troy stared at her. “Bloody hell.”

“It would eliminate more suspects if we knew for sure that it was the same man, but with no real forensic evidence and a third party statement, we can't be certain,” Ellie said. “I've asked a local ISVA, a friend of mine, to see if she can help persuade the woman we've been told about to talk to us, but we don't have her statement yet.”

“And you haven't finished with Ed Burnett yet.” Troy turned to Hardy. “What would have been your next step after that?”

Hardy let out a tired breath. “Dave Jones and James Green. Wanted to establish the identity of the photographer... and get... confirmation about... the connection. If the photos were related... needed to know. If not, then finding them could settle that part and put it over to court. Let us focus on Trish's case.”

“Makes sense,” Troy agreed. His pocket buzzed, and he took his phone out, checking it. “Looks like I won't get to start there, but I'd like to. As it is, clock is running out on a couple suspects, the CS says, so I better get over there.”

Ellie's phone buzzed, and she frowned, digging it out of her pocket.

“Dirty Brian?” Hardy asked, and she nodded.

“Seems he found something at Leo Humphries' business he thinks we'd better see.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visits are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must have forced myself to wait too long on my other story because the inspiration I had for it is not what it was, and this story seems to be the only one I can make real progress on without feeling like it is taking forever to get a few lines out of me. This one came a lot easier, though I don't think I should be proud of that.

* * *

Daisy fought another yawn, knowing that she didn't want to argue about going back to the Latimer's house again. She didn't care what the hospital said, she wanted to see her father, and she wasn't going to go back to sleep, no matter what Mark thought. Chloe understood, and she'd helped push her father to take them over. She just felt like Mark would want to turn the van around if he caught her yawning. She was awake now, and there was no going back to sleep until she knew how her father was.

And she'd rather see that for herself, no matter what anyone else thought.

She was going to have to tell her mother about her father eventually, but if she held off until her father was awake and on the mend, then she wouldn't get pulled back to Sandbrook. She used to love her life there, but all of that changed when her father was abducted, and she knew that wasn't home now. Broadchurch was. Her father was, and she had Ellie and Chloe and Fred to help balance out the rest of it.

She might even have Leah Winterman and Tom Miller, too, and that was good, too. She just didn't know how she felt about Tom for sure, or if she and Leah were really friends, though Leah did need someone same as the rest of them did.

She should call later, though she was a bit uncertain about it when her father was in the hospital. Since her dad had Trish's case, it was awkward.

She shook that off, hurrying the last few steps to her father's room. She walked in just in time to hear some stranger talking to Ellie, and she frowned, because that didn't sound like her father's doctor.

“What exactly is this business?” the man in the suit asked, and Daisy wondered if he was some kind of cheap solicitor, since had had a lousy suit and reminded her of the one Dave had when his wife decided to leave him.

“It's a twine factory,” Ellie said. “The likely source of the twine in question, actually, though it sources many local businesses and private customers, so it's not like it's a guarantee that it was Leo, just a possibility.”

The other man nodded. “And where is it?”

“Bloody hell,” her father snapped from the bed. “Miller, go with him. Just go.”

“And, what, you're going to check yourself out of here against advice as soon as I leave the room?” Ellie countered, folding her arms over her chest.

“I won't let that happen,” Daisy said, and her father looked over at her. She swallowed, feeling herself choke up, and she didn't know how she crossed the room to him, but she did, getting to his bed and taking his hand. “You scared me.”

“Soppy,” he warned, and she rolled her eyes.

“Liar,” she said, and he frowned at her. “You said no more broken heart, remember? This looks kind of broken to me.”

Her father groaned. “Bloody Harford. Was fine until her. Really, Daize. This... Don't know how it happened.”

Ellie shook her head. “I think I can think of a few ways.”

“Shut up and go, Miller. Take Tony over there with you.”

“It's Troy,” the other man said. “Or Gavin, if you prefer.”

“He doesn't do first names, and he probably will get yours wrong for the rest of the time you're here,” Ellie warned Troy. “Still... if Daisy's here, I think I'm willing to leave his grumpy arse behind for a bit. I want to know what Brian found, and there's a lot more I should probably tell you about the case.”

Daisy frowned. “You're taking over Dad's case?”

Troy gave her a reassuring smile, and she thought he was nice enough to where she almost wanted to like him despite the fact that he was here in her father's place, stealing his position while he was sick. “I'm just here until your father gets better. Someone has to keep things going, and I have a feeling that DS Miller will probably end up doing most of the work, but I might help some.”

Daisy nodded, smiling back at him. Her father gave her a look, and she leaned over to kiss his forehead. He closed his eyes, and she gave his hand a little squeeze. Wrapping her other hand around it, she nodded to Ellie and Troy, and watched them leave, both relieved and worried to be alone with her father again.

“I thought I lost you,” she said, and he groaned. “No, Dad, I really did. I wasn't sure you'd wake up again, and when the doctors weren't saying anything, I thought maybe you were already gone, and they just weren't telling me. Please don't ever do that to me again.”

He reached up to touch her cheek. “I never want to hurt you, Daize. I know I do it anyway, and I'm sorry. I know I've not been good at the dad thing, I've missed you growing up... I missed so much of that... I can't make up for missing that time... I'll never forgive myself for it.”

She swallowed. “Dad, stop it. You're sounding like... like you think it's over, like you're dying, and I can't—I won't hear that, okay? I just... you're going to get better. You're going to take care of yourself. You're going to be all right.”

He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “I... I was trying to learn, trying to make time, to be that good dad. That was all supposed... that was what I mean to do. Before... before Joe. I know... I know that screwed up a lot. Screwed me up, and I don't... I haven't said how much... I need you. I need you to know how loved you are.”

“Stop scaring me,” she said, her words coming out choked. “Please.”

“I haven't said that enough,” he said, and she shook her head. “I got sick and I nearly died... And I didn't. I... I tried to leave, and I didn't... I think that... that is 'cos I'm meant to be here... Here, in this stupid place with its stupid cliffs... I'm meant to be doing this job... and I'm meant to look after you.”

“Then don't get any stupid ideas about leaving,” she muttered, leaning down to hug him. “I mean it. You'll have to stick around. And eat and sleep and all that stuff you haven't been doing.”

He nodded, looking tired again.

“Which means now you get to rest,” she said. He looked at her, and she nodded. “It's okay. I'm here. Get some sleep.”

* * *

“I'm not sure about this,” Paul admitted. Beth gave him a look, and he sighed. “It's not a reflection of your abilities, I assure you. I am so admiring of you, and I hope you know that, but I am worried about how she'll react to me bringing someone here. She gets upset really easily, and she's pretty frail these days. I don't want to do anything that will cause her harm.”

“I know,” Beth said, “and believe me, I understand. I just... if this woman was attacked by the same person as attacked my client, then I need to know. And the police need to know that, too.”

Paul nodded. He agreed with that, and he wished that Ruth had been willing to talk to them in the first place. If she could have told the police any of what she'd told him, maybe this could already have been resolved. He didn't know for sure, but he'd like to think that they could have helped a lot by now if they only knew what Ruth did.

“Okay,” Paul said. “I'll see how this goes.”

She nodded, following him up into the house. He knocked, pushing the door open a second later with a grimace. He still hated coming in more or less unannounced, but Ruth was having more trouble hearing and moving around, and he knew it was simpler, for the most part, if he didn't wait outside.

“Ruth?” he called out into the house. “Ruth, it's Paul. I hope you don't mind—I've brought a friend with me this time.”

She didn't answer, and he waved Beth in after him, crossing into the front room. He winced when he saw Ruth in the chair again.

“Is she...?”

Ruth jerked awake at Beth's words, and Paul grimaced again. “Hi. Sorry. I tried calling, again, but you didn't hear us.”

“Oh,” Ruth said. “That's fine. Fine, fine. Is this... your lady friend?”

Paul flushed. “Um, no, Ruth. This is just a friend friend. Beth Latimer.”

“Oh, I heard about that,” Ruth said. “Such a terrible thing. That poor boy. He was so young. Who does that to a child?”

Beth blinked, a bit blindsided by Ruth's comments. Even now, years after their loss, it still hit just as hard, he'd say, and Paul wished he'd been able to stop Ruth from mentioning it. Then again, the tables would turn any second when Beth asked her about the rape.

“It's hard to believe, even now,” Paul said. He hadn't wanted to believe it was Joe Miller at first, and he still blamed himself for thinking he could redeem the man only to have him put the town through that horrible trial and Hardy through hell afterward. “I asked Beth to come with me today because I think she might be able to help you more than I have.”

“Oh, I'm not so sure about that,” Beth began. “I'm far from an expert, even if I have been working with Wessex Rape Response for a while now.”

Ruth frowned. “What?”

Paul leaned down next to her. “I know you said that you weren't willing to speak to the police, but Beth is not the police. Beth has worked with other women like you, and she is only here to help support you. I swear, that's all.”

Ruth swallowed. “I don't want to talk to anyone else about this.”

Beth put some hair behind her ear. “I can understand that, really I can. I've heard that before, and I even felt it myself, when Danny died. People wanted to talk, and I couldn't. What you feel is what we all feel, and I understand. I am not here to make you uncomfortable or do anything you don't want to do. This is always led by you. If you feel you can talk to me, then I am here to listen. If you can't, then I will go.”

Ruth frowned. “I... I don't know if I can do this.”

“It's fine,” Beth said. “Just take your time.”

* * *

“Bloody hell, sir,” Ellie said, holding onto the door of the car and hoping she didn't die as Troy swerved _again_ to avoid a car coming the opposite direction. She would never, ever, complain about letting Hardy behind the wheel again. He'd never been this reckless with either of their lives, and the worst part was that she didn't even think that Troy was doing it on purpose. “Can I just say that I'd like to do the driving from now on? Please?”

Troy managed a grimace and a bit of a sheepish smile as he pulled in the lot. “I offered because I thought you were tired, and you are, but if I'm honest... I sometimes wonder if they promoted me just so I wouldn't be doing the driving.”

Ellie looked at him, saw his honest expression, and fought laughter even as she hoped that wasn't true. She wanted them to have sent someone competent after everything that had gone wrong so far, and she didn't want to turn the case over from Hardy—who, for all his faults and trauma, was damned good at this—to someone who wasn't.

“That was a joke,” Troy said, parking the car. “Mostly. I mean, I passed the exam, and I've been doing this for a while now, even if I don't look like it.”

Ellie forced a smile. “Well, come on then. We should see what Brian has for us, and then you can get up to speed on what you need to know about Ed Burnett. God, I could so use a Kit Kat or a Scotch egg right about now.”

“I'd go for either,” Troy said, opening his door. “Should have eaten before I came, but I was in a hurry. Brian. We're starting with Brian. Why did Hardy call him Dirty Brian?”

Ellie winced, pushing her own door open and getting out. “It goes back to the Latimer case. Brian asked me out when I was still married to Joe, and I told Hardy because it was weird and I needed to talk about it and I wasn't going to tell Joe. He asked if it was flattering, and I said kind of, since not everyone would do that, but then it was SOCO, and they've had their hands everywhere—”

“Dirty Brian,” Troy finished, and Ellie grinned, though her smile faded as she thought maybe she shouldn't find it funny this interloper had picked up on the joke that fast. That was hers and Hardy's.

“Brian and a few of the others call Hardy 'Shitface.'”

“More crude than inventive,” Troy said. “My DI would be disappointed.”

“You still call him that? Even after years as a DI yourself?”

Troy shrugged. “He taught me a lot, and like I said, we were like family. Ate dinner at his house, was one of the only ones who could stomach his wife's food, and I had a bit of a crush on his daughter. Things didn't go that way, but even now, I still find myself answering the questions he would have asked. Makes me a better investigator, I hope.”

She smiled and cursed herself for it. “I'm not supposed to like you. You're the interloper. By all rights, if this job isn't his, it should be mine, and now I'm almost laughing with you, and it just feels wrong.”

“I know what you mean,” Troy said. “Trust me. Just point me in the right direction, and I'll do my best to help.”

She nodded, leading him into the building and past the desk. She went to the elevators and waited. The doors didn't take long to open, and she pushed the button as Troy joined her in the elevator. The doors closed, and they went up.

She stepped out first when the doors opened, the office seeming strange to her, knowing as she did that Hardy wouldn't be anywhere near here. She was about to tell Troy to follow her to her desk when Brian appeared.

“I've got something for you, Ellie,” he said. Then he frowned, looking at Troy. “Who're you?”

“This is DI Troy,” Ellie told Brian. “He's taking over for Hardy temporarily.”

“Right,” Brian said a little stiffly. “How is Sh—Hardy?”

“Conscious, now, and probably stubborn enough to force himself out of the hospital by the end of the day,” Ellie said. “Let's see what you've got for us. Did you have time to look at the Winterman computer?”

“We're still working on that,” Brian told her. “You gave us five scenes to process in one day, and we're a bit behind, but I thought you'd want this right away.”

“What is it?” Troy asked.

Brian held out an evidence bag with a phone in it. “This was taped to Leo's desk at the factory. And you will want to see what's on it, though I warn you—it's hard to watch.”

Ellie frowned, taking the phone from him. She opened up the app and almost gagged as the first video played. “That's Laura Benson.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, and there's more.”

“How many?” Ellie asked, feeling sick. She backed out of the video and looked at the files. “Oh, God.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy gets a visit at the hospital, and things get complicated again with the case when they should be simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to get back to a couple subplots, and I also think someone may seem even less likable now, but I did think she was the right catalyst, between her and another factor, for someone doing what we'd all expect him to do. So I think this works, but then, I should have been asleep hours ago and may not be thinking very clearly.
> 
> It was a good idea at the time, but that was late last night when I should have been sleeping, so who knows?

* * *

_Hardy pulled on his bonds, knowing it was hopeless but still having to try. Joe was staring at him, a mix of confusion and something else on his face, something that was too much like appreciation for Hardy's liking. He could see it now, in Joe's face. He'd liked what he'd done, and there would be more of that coming, more... kisses._

_The thought made him sick, and he had to get himself out of here before this escalated again. He knew it had only been hours since he woke up and lost his shoes to Joe's supposed need to understand, but each bit after that got worse and worse, and it didn't seem to take much time at all for Joe to pass from a tentative attempt to aggressive moves for more than what he'd done before._

_The shoes had been untied and set aside in a neat stack, but by the time he'd gone for Hardy's shirt, he'd ripped it off, and Hardy could tell where this was going even as his mind screamed every possible denial it could find at him._

_He wanted to deny it, but Joe was already shoving his tongue in Hardy's mouth, which meant that other things were not far from happening._

_He'd rather die, but for all that his heart had tried to fail on him so many times before, it was stubbornly refusing to do it now, now when he'd gladly let it win._

Hardy pulled himself out of the nightmare just before Joe Miller tried to touch him again, hearing machines beeping and squealing around him and Daisy's frantic voice trying to tell him to calm down. He watched the heart monitor for a few seconds, well aware of how erratic it was, but considering where he'd just been, he wasn't surprised.

They wouldn't let him go back to work like this, not if they knew that the dreams did that to his heart. He'd be medicalled out again, and this time it would be permanent.

“Damn it.”

“Dad?”

He swallowed, shifting on the bed and forcing himself through the breathing exercises he knew. Once he was done with the second one, he let out a breath and turned back to his daughter. “Just a dream, Daize.”

She winced. “A bad one. It looked like you were going to have another heart attack, and they were getting carts and—”

“It was a damned dream,” he insisted, pointing those words at the nurse at the back of the room. “I'm fine. Get out.”

“Dad,” Daisy began, but he shook his head. He didn't want more people seeing him like this, and he knew that as much as the dream had sickened him and put his body into a panic, he would be fine. This part was routine. He'd been living with it since Joe Miller abducted him.

“It wasn't a heart attack. Just... just a memory,” Hardy admitted. “A bad one, but only a memory.”

Daisy frowned. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Don't think I like saying it. Doesn't feel right, it having that much power over me, but it was just... just that same thing again.”

She sighed, reaching for his hand again. He closed his eyes, trying to keep things calm even as he knew he had to get out of here. He didn't care if there were complications. He didn't like hospitals, he didn't want fuss, and he couldn't stand people seeing him like this, so weak and helpless. A bad heart would have been enough, but a bad heart and the memories of Joe Miller assaulting him... No. No one needed to see him like that.

“Sir?”

He frowned, knowing that wasn't the nurse talking. He reached over and nudged Daisy to the side, looking around her. “The hell are you doing here, Hartford?”

“I wanted to see how you were,” she said, looking sheepish and a bit guilty. “To make sure you were okay.”

“You didn't kill me, now get out.”

Daisy frowned. “What is—”

“Sir, I know I made a mistake in the investigation, but I need to tell you something, and it is important. It could matter to the case—”

“No.”

“I tried talking to Ellie, but she just yelled at me,” Hartford went on, shaking her head. “Please. It could be important, and since I can't talk to her or the CS or anyone else on the case—”

“You thought you'd exploit me being in the damned hospital?” Hardy demanded. “Unbelievable. And no. I don't want to hear it. You lost that when you screwed over my case. Trish Winterman might not get justice because of you, and I never want to see you again.”

“I think you should go,” Daisy said. “If you're the reason he's here, I'll hurt you myself.”

Hartford swallowed. “It's about my dad. About... about how violent he can be when he drinks. Please. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important.”

* * *

Troy walked out of the interrogation room, leaning against the wall and running a hand over his face. Ellie winced to see him do it, since it was very clear that things were not going well in there. She hadn't known what to expect, but when they apparently had a suspect dead to rights, the conversation should be easy, not one that was causing Troy this much distress.

Unless he really was terrible at his job, which she didn't want to believe because they needed someone good. They couldn't have Hardy, but to poison a damaged case with someone incompetent was wrong. They should know that.

“You look done in already.”

Troy grimaced. “They make it look simple, those programs on the telly that show our jobs. Hell, even my DI made it look easy. He just knew. Always. He'd even find the little missing pieces and pin it all together. Me, I go in there with irrefutable evidence, and I get silence. He tells me again to look at Ian Winterman, but even when I tell him the phone was found on his desk. When I show him the video, he just sits there looking smug.”

“Smug little shit,” Ellie agreed. “He's acted like that since the beginning, and that's what we started calling him, me and Hardy, but... seriously? Not even a word when he was confronted with the video he took of him raping those women?”

Troy shook his head. “Not a word. I get the feeling he thinks because I'm in there and Hardy isn't that he's going to get away with this.”

“Damn,” Ellie said. Troy gave her another grimace, but she wasn't sure he was wrong about that. “It's not true, though. Just because Hardy is on temporary medical leave does not mean that this case won't get prosecuted. It will be. We're going to get him. We've got a damned video.”

“I think his solicitor has him believing it'll get thrown out,” Troy said. “Not that I'm sure he knows exactly what happened with Hardy—someone might have given him the impression that some kind of misconduct got Hardy pulled from the case instead of his health.”

“Bloody hell,” Ellie said, trying to figure out if they'd actually be able to use that kind of a rumor in court. It would not help that Daisy's case was still possibly connected to this.

“Did you get anywhere with Ed Burnett?”

Ellie nodded. That had gone rather well in comparison, though it didn't say much, all things considered. “He's been stalking Trish, thinks he's in love with her. He's got hundreds of pictures of her on his phone. And he did attack Jim Atwood because he had sex with Trish. So we have his reason for that, and on the one hand, he looks like a good candidate for the rape because he could easily have warped his love for her into something else, but we've got Leo and the videos of him raping three other women.”

“Only none of them were Trish Winterman,” Troy reminded her. He shook his head. “We don't have names for the others, but she wasn't one of the ones in the videos.”

Ellie grimaced. “Are we actually saying that there are two rapists at work here?”

“I have no idea,” Troy admitted. “I barely have any sort of handle on this case at all, but if I can't get Leo to talk, then I can't get him to admit to any of them, and that includes Trish's case.”

Ellie almost swore. “There has to be something we can do, though I doubt he'd do much talking to me. I wasn't that good at getting to him before and—”

“DS Miller?” a PC asked, and she was almost afraid to know what this was. “There's a Beth Latimer here to see you.”

* * *

“Oh, Beth,” Ellie began, and Beth tried not to wince at how weary her friend looked. She knew that Ellie hadn't gone home, and apparently not even to change, but she looked it. She should probably not be back at work herself, but with Hardy in the hospital, they needed someone to find Trish's rapist. “I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. Mark dropped Daisy off at the hospital, and I came back here with DI Troy.”

Beth gave the other man a glance. He forced a small smile.

“You're taking over for Hardy?”

“We needed someone,” Ellie said. “Much as I was hoping that Hardy could finish this, I don't know that he'll be able to, and we don't have a lot of time. Were you able to see that woman you met with before? I think we may have some... evidence from her attack.”

“The one from last year?” Beth asked. “No, I didn't make it back to her yet, but I think that might help with getting her case to go forward, as she was really worried about her family knowing.”

Ellie sighed. “Why is it that women feel that they can't tell anyone? No, don't answer that. I know the answer. I even got Hardy to give me it once, but I just... I wish they felt they could tell us. It would make this so much easier and keep everyone safer. We can't let this sort of thing happen again.”

“No, we can't,” Beth agreed. “Which is part of why I'm here. I went with Paul to see the other woman you asked me about.”

“You actually saw her?”

“I think between me and Paul, we were able to persuade her to let you come by,” Beth said. “It took some doing, but once she'd told me what she told Paul, I think she understood that it wasn't as horrible as she believed telling others. I don't know how well she'd do talking to a stranger, but she knows you, Ellie, and she was able to tell us quite a bit.”

“Enough to where you think it's not connected to Trish?”

Beth frowned. “Is that what you thought I'd tell you? No, I actually... Ellie, her attack was a lot like Trish's. It wasn't quite the same—she was heading home instead of at a party, but she was hit on the head, she was tied up, and she was raped. All like Trish. It was very similar.”

“Did she tell you when this happened?”

Beth nodded. “About thirty-five years ago, actually.”

“What?” Troy asked, staring at her. “No. That doesn't—it can't be the same person. We've got our rapist, and he's barely twenty.”

“What?” Beth asked, turning to Ellie. “That's not true, is it?”

Ellie sighed. “We found evidence linking one of our suspects to other rapes, but Troy is right—he's too young to have been the rapist thirty-five years ago. He's twenty-one. This doesn't add up somehow. It can't be right. Except...”

Troy frowned at her. “What?”

“We didn't find a video of Trish.”

Troy winced. “So you do think that there's two of them? Then, what, we're back to—oh, um, sorry. Can't discuss that in front of you.”

“God, he's right,” Ellie said. “We shouldn't even have mentioned the videos.”

Beth knew that was true, but she wanted to understand, too. “If you have the rapist—but you can't—how are we going to know? That attack happened thirty-five years ago. I don't think she's making it up, not at all. She didn't read something in the papers—”

“Even if she did, we didn't put enough of those details out there, not even after we had more victims,” Ellie said. “She can't have gotten them unless she knew someone working on the case.”

“I doubt that,” Beth said. “She's elderly, house bound, and has no family. I think if Paul wasn't going by to check on her, she'd be one of those horrible stories you hear where no one finds the body for months. Not that she's dead, but she's so alone and isolated, I can't see how she'd know those details unless they actually happened.”

“I suppose we'd better go talk to her,” Troy said. “Damn it, if I had just gotten him to talk—”

“It might not matter,” Ellie said. “Not if these cases are connected, though it's hard to see how that's even possible. He wasn't born when she was attacked.”

“You're missing the obvious, Miller. What made us think the rapes could be connected to the photographs?”

“The porn,” Ellie answered, and then she turned over and swore. “Hardy, you bloody idiot. What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy's arrival changes things at the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had started part of this last night, but I felt the previous chapter ended better with the other scene. I did edit it a bit, and then I ended up with part from what the show did, but obviously things have changed, and I haven't gotten back to subplots, but they felt like they'd detract, so I skipped them.
> 
> Or maybe that's just my excuse. I tried looking at my original fiction today, and I couldn't help comparing it to the book I read and feeling terrible about all my writing, since mine was similar enough to be troubling. Since that one is published and mine isn't, it would seem like a rip off, even if I wrote it years before I read that book. That, I must say was depressing, and made working on this and my other story rather difficult.

* * *

Miller's tirade stopped only when she needed to pause for air, and Hardy would have to admit that he'd never heard so many creative curses as he had when she spoke just now, and considering his long career and the places he'd been over it, that was a bit of a surprise.

He waited until she was was done, waiting against the wall. Getting from the car to the building had been taxing, and even the elevator left him a bit exhausted. Daisy was giving him a worried look again, but he just needed a minute. He'd be fine, even if it had taken most of what he had to get here and make that comment at the end of their conversation.

“Are you finished?” he asked, and Miller glared at him, infuriated.

“Not by half. You should not be here,” Miller said. “I can't believe you left against advice again.”

He snorted. She'd known that was coming. She wasn't a fool. “Couldn't rest there. Bloody Hartford tried to pass me information on the case.”

“That, and his nightmares made the machines go crazy, and they thought he was having another heart attack,” Daisy said, and he gave her a look. She shook her head. “I only agreed to this because I thought the hospital was making you worse, especially after that woman showed up. I'm not happy about it.”

He nodded. He was well aware of that. She'd wanted him to go straight home when they got the cab, but he'd figured he was of more use here, and what good was resting if all it did was give his heart another chance to be run ragged by his bloody nightmares? 

“So you've seen Paul's phantom victim,” Hardy said, addressing Beth Latimer, “and you think she's genuine.”

Beth nodded. “I do, but it doesn't make sense with your case, at least not from what I hear.”

“We shouldn't be doing this,” Miller said, and Hardy folded his arms over his chest, giving her a long look. She'd already threatened to put him in her car and drive him straight back to the hospital, but he didn't really believe she would. This was the Latimer case all over again, and they both knew it. “You should not be here.”

“He's not officially off the case,” Tony reminded her, and she looked at him, almost betrayed. Hardy didn't know what to make of the other man. He wouldn't want someone else nosing in on one of his cases, but then again, if this one had any sense, he wouldn't want the case. It was already as much poison as Sandbrook, and Hardy didn't have much to lose. Tony might.

“You've got to be kidding,” Miller said. Then she sighed. “Fine, let's... Daisy, if you and Beth could excuse us for a minute, we will sit your father down and see if he has anything that can help us, but only if he promises he'll go home as soon as we've talked.”

Hardy gave her a look. He wasn't promising any damned thing. He didn't care if they'd saddled someone else with this mess. It was his to fix, and he was damned well going to fix it—or at least finish the damned case. If this was the last one he got, he was going to see it to the end.

“She's right, you should sit,” Tony said, reaching to help him, which Hardy refused, walking down to his office on his own power, though he regretted it before he was a quarter of the way along the hall. He was tired, and his body didn't have the stamina it did before this latest incident.

Miller opened the door for him, guiding him the last few steps to his chair, and Hardy fell into it, closing his eyes for a second.

“Sir?”

“Bring me up to speed,” he ordered, same as he had before. “With great economy.”

“Wanker,” Miller said, shaking her head at him. “You are—”

“We have a phone with videos of three rapes,” Tony said, clearly not wanting that to start up again. “One of them Miller identified as Laura Benson. No video exists of Trish Winterman, but those three were definitely committed by Leo Humphries. He won't talk, though. Not even when shown the video.”

Hardy frowned, leaning forward in his chair. “He thinks he can get away with it even after the videos? Is there some reason why the search would get thrown out of court that I'm unaware of?”

“Actually, I think he thinks you weren't pulled for medical reasons,” Tony told him, and Hardy almost laughed at that, though it wasn't funny.

“Oh, I see,” Hardy said. He eyed the other DI, wondering if they were having the same thought.

“He might change his tune if you were to go back in there,” Tony admitted, and Miller gave him another horrified look. “Trouble is, you look a little run down—”

“A little?” Miller demanded.

“—and showing him a weakness is not really what we want right now,” Tony finished. “He's got a strong dislike for authority, and I'm admittedly better at being the disarming 'good cop' since I still look too damned young and naïve for this job.”

Hardy almost smiled. “Whereas Shitface is actually one of the nicer names they've given me behind my back. Come on, Miller. We have a smug little shit to scare.”

“I swear, if you fall down on me—”

“I'm perfectly capable of talking, and as long as I make it to the damned chair, we're good,” Hardy insisted. “Let's go.”

* * *

Angry as she was with him, Ellie tried not to give any sign of her concerns over Hardy as he walked into the interrogation room. He'd made a point of stopping outside, partly she suspected to catch his breath but also do to as Troy said, not show a bit of weakness. He had come in on his own, as Troy was asking Leo another question, and the smug smile on the little bastard's face dropped when Hardy came in, crossing over to take the chair Troy vacated. 

“For the tape, DI Hardy has just entered the room,” Ellie said, a bit pleased to be saying it, even if she swore she'd strangle him herself for this stunt.

“Leo, you're aware you have been further arrested in connection with three further offenses of rape: one against Laura Benson and two identities unknown at this stage on or before the twenty-eighth of May 2016. And an extension to your custody time has been authorized,” Hardy said, sounding calm and perfectly in control, which she knew was a lie, but all the same it was a bit impressive. Leo swallowed, looking at his solicitor and back at Hardy.

“We found the weapon used to assault the victim, a child's cricket bat, during a search of your office at Humphries Nets,” Hardy went on. “Preliminary forensics have identified your prints on the bat along with those of Michael Lucas and the blood of the victim.”

“What?” Leo shook his head. “No. That's not mine. You planted that.”

Hardy sat back in his chair. Troy frowned, since Leo hadn't made this protest before, only saying that they needed to look at Ian. “You deny touching the cricket bat from Axehampton?”

Leo glared at him. “You know I was there, but that doesn't mean I had anything to do with that. I didn't.”

“You touched the bat,” Hardy said, and Leo shrugged.

“So we hit the ball a few times at the party. What of it?” Leo asked, still too damned smug, but at least he was talking to Hardy. “That doesn't mean I did anything to her.”

“We have camera phone footage of three rapes,” Hardy reminded him. “We found that phone taped to the back of your desk in your office. The phone is registered in your name. Why did you film them, Leo?”

“I wanted to remember it,” he said, smiling as he did and making Ellie feel sick. She didn't know how hardy seemed calm. Troy looked a little green, but maybe that was the light. “I wanted to see myself.”

“What?” Ellie heard herself ask. That was even sicker than she'd thought. 

“You felt powerful when you watched it back?” Hardy asked, an edge to his voice as he did. Ellie knew that tone. It was dangerous. God, she hoped he didn't lose it in here—she'd been worried about his heart, but what if she had to fear his temper? 

“Not powerful so much as proud.”

“What about the women?” Ellie asked. “Did you stop to think how _they_ felt?” 

Leo shook his head. “Not really.”

She shook her head. “You knew it was wrong and illegal?” 

Leo shrugged, completely without shame. “It's only sex.”

“It's _rape,”_ she snapped, seeing Hardy wince next to her. They were going to have to get him out of here soon enough, since she could see the strain again. 

“They'd all had sex before,” Leo said, and she found herself staring again, not sure she could believe this. He had no remorse, almost like he didn't understand what he'd done, but he did. He knew, and he just didn't care. “Why does one more time make a difference?” 

“They did not get the choice,” she said. “Their bodies are _not_ yours.”

Hardy leaned forward, taking control of the conversation again with that move. “Was Laura Benson your first attack?” 

“Yeah,” Leo answered, remembering it with fondness. “I was back from uni. That's why all the attacks happened in the summer. Tried to keep it to one a year. Didn't want to get greedy, but once you've had a taste, it's it's hard. Kept thinking I was gonna get caught. When it wasn't in the news and nobody came, I wanted that feeling again.”

God, he revolted her. She wanted to get up and kick him as hard as she had when she'd gone after Joe. She thought Troy wanted that, too, since he was pacing the side of the room. Hardy might have done the same, but she didn't think he trusted his heart to let him stand. 

She swallowed. “Did you know the names of the other two women you attacked?” 

“I didn't ask,” Leo said, going back to being smug again. “Is that rude?”

Ellie dropped her pen. She didn't remember picking it up, but she must have. She was lucky she'd hadn't broken it already. 

“We found a large stash of pornography on your computer,” Hardy said. “Was that the material which you shared with Michael Lucas?” 

“Some of it. He wasn't ready for the really graphic stuff. Would have scared him off.”

Troy grimaced. “You watch a lot of porn?” 

“A couple of hours a day. Maybe more.”

Unbelievable, but then it wasn't, all at the same time. She wanted to understand this, but she didn't know that there was anything that could make her understand this monster sitting across from her. “Why Trish Winterman at Axehampton?”

“I told you—that wasn't me.”

“You went to that party prepared, though. You had everything you needed. Twine. Sock for a gag. You were ready for to attack another woman.”

“I go everywhere equipped.”

“But you claim you didn't attack Trish Winterman.”

“I didn't. Maybe you need to talk to Ian, but it weren't me.”

Ellie looked from Hardy to Troy. Hardy didn't seem fazed, but Troy was frowning. It didn't make sense for Leo to deny attacking Trish, not with all this evidence, but did that mean that he was telling the truth? He seemed so proud of the others, it wasn't like she thought he'd deny one more. It didn't make sense.

“What about Michael?” Hardy drew everyone's attention to him again. “Were you grooming him? Is that why you gave him porn?” 

Leo shrugged. “He seemed lonely. I know how that can feel. I thought this might help.”

“You thought porn would make him feel less alone?” Ellie scoffed. Troy was fighting something that could have been amusement. Only Hardy seemed nonplussed.

“And what was the next step?” Hardy asked. “Getting him to commit a rape himself? Was that where you were taking him?”

“He might have wanted it,” Leo said. “It... makes you feel in control. For that moment, there's nothing else. Just you in charge. There's a moment where you're in harmony with the world and it's just... It's beautiful.”

“That is not harmony,” Hardy told him. “And it's not beautiful. Nothing about what you did comes close to that. Not a damned thing. You weren't better. You weren't a god. You weren't anything more than an overgrown child, turned into a thing of nightmares. You had no right to that, no right to even _touch_ them, but you did so much more than that.”

“You say that because you've been on the other side of it.”

Troy frowned, again, and Ellie wondered if no one had mentioned Joe's attack on Hardy to him. Probably not. The CS hadn't given him much information, had she?

“You felt for Micheal because he was lonely. Because his father hit him in front of all of you,” Hardy countered. “Where was that sense of empathy toward any of those women? Because it didn't have to be sex to be a violation. And Danielle may have confused what you gave her with love, but you don't love her. You're not capable of that. You've no shred of decency in you because you would not have touched any of them if you did. You would not have started Micheal down your path. You wanted to make someone just like you. And not because you were lonely. Because you wanted someone to share this with. It wasn't any fun for you without someone to gloat to, but how could you gloat without risking exposure?”

Leo frowned. “That's not—”

“Did you start with James Green and Dave Jones, too?” Hardy pressed. “Did you encourage them to take photographs of teenage girls without their consent?”

Leo smiled. “You do have a very lovely daughter, DI Hardy.”

“Who groomed you, Leo? You keep pointing the finger at Ian, but it wasn't him, was it? You found someone else's video, didn't you? An old one, I think, made with a camera you can't get these days, and on that camera was the start of all this. You didn't find tame porn and go for the rougher stuff later, did you? You saw a rape, and that was what you wanted all along, wasn't it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No, I think you do,” Hardy said as he rose. “You may have waited until university so no one would suspect you if your victims did come forward, but you've been after this for a long time, and so help me, I will make sure your time in prison is just as long.”

* * *

“How sure are you about any of what you said there at the end?” Tony asked, and Hardy gave him a look. “No, it was insightful. Brilliant, even. The sort of thing my DI back in Causton would do, and I'd just sit and wonder like an idiot how he knew, but he always did. Or he seemed to, and he seemed sure of it. You're sure, aren't you?”

Hardy could do with a bed and the sort of sleep he hadn't gotten in years, but he forced himself to nod. “Almost positive. Dirty Brian keeps going through that computer, and he'll find a video our boy Leo digitized from a much older film.”

Miller leaned against the wall next to him. “You think that was the attack on Paul's nameless victim?”

“It makes a sort of sense,” Troy agreed. “Leo learned his technique from this video. Hitting them over the head, tying them up, just like this older case.”

“It might not be the same woman, since it's unlikely this man only attacked the one Coates knows about,” Hardy said, putting a hand to his head. “Trouble is, Miller, I don't think it was Ian. Leo has been so quick to shove Ian under the bus, but if Ian had mentored him the way he was grooming Micheal—”

“He should be protective of his mentor, right?” Ellie said. “I mean, he never had to volunteer that information about the computer. We hadn't checked Trish's computer, didn't see a need to, even when she'd claimed the man she had sex with was someone she met online, so why did Leo feel like telling us that it was Ian?”

“Because it wasn't,” Hardy said. “Which leaves us with the same damned question we started with—who raped Trish Winterman?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is stumping everyone, but a few other things come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got back to subplots. After agonizing over original fiction and the disaster that my day proved to be, and it's far from perfect, and the fluff I tried for... well, it didn't work as well as I'd hoped, either, much as I wanted that bit between them to be nice and sweet for a change. Not that I wasn't telling someone else (not here) the other day that I don't know how to do fluff, but it's always so sad to have proof come right after saying something like that.

* * *

“We're going around in circles now,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “We have to find a way to get past it, and I don't know... Maybe that is just waiting for Brian to dig up that file on Leo's computer.”

She rubbed her neck, really feeling the last few days. She'd dozed off a few times sitting next to Hardy in his hospital bed, but that wasn't really sleep, and it was killing her neck right now. She could do with a long massage. She doubted that she'd have time for one, not that she could get one now—and she hated remembering that the person she'd gone to for that sort of thing before was locked away and had killed an eleven year old boy.

“It's too late to try and talk to the other victim,” Troy said, checking his watch. “She'd be asleep by now, and I'm not putting her through that at this hour. You said you got information from Harford. She's the one whose father is in custody, isn't she? What did she say?”

“That he hit his wife,” Hardy answered. “Apparently it was while she was dying and because he'd been drinking. Hartford insisted it was relevant.”

“And yet she didn't feel it was before we arrested him,” Ellie grumbled, still angry with Katie for this stupidity. “God, I wish I could knock some sense into her.”

“Let me use that against Ed Burnett, see what I get from him,” Troy said, and Hardy gave him a look. “I couldn't get Leo Humphries to talk, but I'm not completely incompetent. Ellie had Burnett talking, and I think I can get him to say more, especially with what you just told me. And... I know neither of you is going to want to hear this, but go home.”

“What?” Ellie demanded. “Who are you to—”

“He was in the hospital overnight. You were with him, and I don't doubt you were both pulling long hours before that happened,” Troy said. “I'm here, and while I know you've got no reason to trust me, I haven't gone days without sleep on this one yet. I'll see if I can get anything from Burnett. He could be the man who raped Trish, but we need proof.”

“He does have a lot of pictures of Trish on his phone. He was stalking her.”

“That's a fine line,” Troy agreed, “but it still doesn't prove anything. Please, go home, get some rest, and in the morning we'll all start fresh.”

“All?” Hardy asked, eying him with suspicion.

“I don't have a problem working with you,” Troy said. “I won't back off even though you're here. This is my case now, too. We can work it together. At least... I can.”

Hardy didn't respond to that, and Ellie thought this could get unpleasant, but she knew that Troy was right. Both of them needed sleep. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was true.

“You did promise Daisy you'd go home after talking to Leo,” Ellie reminded him. He gave her a look, but she just shrugged. “Come on. I'll take you back home, and we can go over the case on the way. We'll assess all the suspects, and Troy will tell us if he gets anything from Ed Burnett.”

Troy nodded. “I will. Give me your number, and I'll send a text just in case you're asleep when I'm done.”

Ellie would wake up anyway, but she humored him, giving him the number. She didn't bother passing along Hardy's. As much as she knew he'd want to know, he wouldn't want her giving his number out. He'd only given the new one to a small handful after his abduction—she didn't think more than five people had it, though she could be wrong about that, since it wasn't like he'd tell her or let her see it.

“See you in the morning, Troy,” she told him, and he gave her a smile as she prodded Hardy toward the door.

* * *

“We should talk, Nige,” Mark said, and his friend stopped just outside his house, frowning.

“I thought you had things to take care of at home,” Nige said. “That was why you wanted me to go round to your jobs today. Not saying I minded, I don't, but you sounded like you'd be busy for a long time.”

“I was,” Mark said, since he'd only felt like he could leave again after Beth got back. He didn't know that Chloe felt he'd been at all helpful, and she'd spent most of her time on her mobile, texting with her friend Daisy, he thought, though she hadn't actually said. His efforts to push got an eyeroll as his daughter left the room.

“So,” Nige said, shrugging. “What brings you by?”

“I had a thought, and I didn't like it much, but it wouldn't quit my head,” Mark admitted. Ever since his visit from Olly and Maggie, he'd been thinking, and while he'd been distracted off and on by Lizzie and Chloe, he kept coming back to the same thought.

“Okay,” Nige said. “What was it?”

“Maggie and Olly Stephens came round to ask if I was behind the vandalism.”

“What?” Nige asked, shaking his head. “Mate, that's crazy.”

“I know, and that's what I told them,” Mark said. “They thought it wasn't, though, because the people who kept getting hit by this vandal were my customers. They hired me to fix what got broke, sometimes more than once.”

“So? Why does that make you the vandal?”

“Because I needed the work to keep going after Dan died,” Mark told him. That was true, and he figured everyone knew it. Maggie and Olly certainly had, and if they did, then someone a lot closer to him would feel the same. “Nige, I gotta know. Did you do it? Did you break that stuff so I'd still have work to do?”

Nige frowned. “What?”

“I know how worried about me you've been,” Mark said. “You faked a sink you couldn't fix back when Dan first died. I got to thinking... if someone was to be doing it, breaking stuff so I'd never run out of work... well, maybe someone thought that he was doing the right thing. That he was helping.”

Nige stared at him. “You think I'm the vandal?”

* * *

_“You look so much younger,” Joe whispered, trailing a finger along Hardy's cheek as he spoke. Hardy shuddered, aware that he seemed like someone with unstoppable seizures, one right after another, but he couldn't stop them. The revulsion he felt kept him trembling. He didn't want it, didn't want to give Joe any reaction at all, but his touch was sickening, and it made Hardy move against his will. Not that he wasn't still trying to move at will, trying to get free, but he still couldn't. The bastard had shaved him while he was unconscious, but he was still trapped._

_“You look like a deranged lunatic.”_

_Joe laughed, leaning his head against Hardy's. “Ellie told me that you had a way with backhanded compliments.”_

_“That wasn't a compliment.”_

_“You grumble when you like someone,” Joe went on, his hand leaving Hardy's face and moving to his side. “I heard you with Ellie. You drove her up the wall, but you still cared what she thought of you. You knew she didn't.”_

_Hardy bit back saying he'd thought he liked Joe. The man had seemed decent that night at dinner. Hardy had laughed with him, enjoyed a joke, and he was usually lousy at social things. He'd thought it went well._

_He'd envied what Miller had. He hadn't seen the killer right in front of him, had even missed the attempt on his own life._

_“I think I can see how you persuaded her to have an affair,” Joe said, and Hardy started to protest—that allegation wasn't true—but Joe didn't let him speak, doing the unthinkable and kissing him._

Hardy yanked himself away from the other man, his eyes opening to the strange half-light that was his front room in the darkness of night. With as many windows as this new place had, and those damned doors, too, all made of glass, the night came in strong and dark even as the room's lamps tried to keep it bright.

His heart was going fast, but not as bad as the last few, not the one in the hospital. He could feel the weight of his pacemaker, the familiar sense it always gave him, but he didn't think it had fired this time. He didn't know what made it different. The last few times, he'd been sure it had, didn't need Daisy's app or the machines in the hospital to tell him that it had.

Not this time, but why?

It took him a second more to realize someone was muttering reassurances at him, their fingers curling through his hair, and he discovered his pillow was not the decorative one Daisy'd picked out for the chair.

Miller. He'd been asleep in her lap, and she was still holding him now. He swallowed, not sure how to react. Why would she hold him? He knew they'd sat down with tea to continue their discussion from the car, and he must have fallen asleep, but he didn't remember that part, couldn't even think of who'd they'd been talking about last.

“It's all right,” Miller said. “Go back to sleep.”

“You're still here.”

“And you're more awake this time,” she said, and he frowned as he lifted his head, sitting back to look at her. “Last time, you only half-stirred. Guess that one wasn't that bad. Or something. You calmed down after a few words and a bit of—you went back to sleep. That was the important part.”

“You should have gone home.”

She shrugged. “Bit hard to do with your dead weight on top of me. Oh, now that you're actually awake, Troy says Ed Burnett heard the rape. He didn't realize what it was, thought it was just drunk sex, but he's blamed himself for it ever since, for not stopping it.”

Hardy nodded. He could see that. “Makes sense. Go home, Miller.”

She grimaced. “I don't suppose you have an extra blanket? I'm not fit to drive, even if I did doze off a little before you had your first nightmare.”

He didn't even remember that one, which was strange. He watched her, conflicted. He didn't want anyone watching him, but if he'd actually been able to calm down after one of them, that was different. He'd never managed that on his own.

“We did it once before,” she said. “That hotel. And nothing happened. It was only weird for part of it, and mostly because we'd been accused of something we hadn't done.”

“Miller—”

“Just tell me where to find the damned blanket, Hardy,” she muttered, getting to her feet. “Or I'll just take one of yours.”

He followed her without a word.

* * *

Katie checked her watch again. If she had the timing right, they should be releasing her father soon, assuming, of course, that they weren't able to press charges against him. She knew the time the police had for questioning, and she'd seen Miller leaving earlier. 

She still didn't know what to think of Hardy being there, not after seeing him in the hospital, but she knew that wasn't her problem now. She was off the case, might never be on another one, and she just had to accept that.

A part of her didn't want to, wanted to fight it, but if Hardy was right and this cost them Trish's case, she wouldn't forgive herself, even if she still wondered just how genuine this claim was.

She sighed. She could hear Miller lecturing her already, and she was glad the other woman wasn't around to do it. She didn't know Katie half as well as she thought she did. No one did.

She glanced at the rear view mirror, frowning when she saw the other car was still there. She knew that it had parked about the same time she had, but no one had gotten out. It was just there, waiting, like she was.

She didn't think they were waiting for her father, but she knew that Hardy had pulled in others before he'd had to go after her father for his stupidity.

God, why had he had to go attacking Jim Atwood like that? And for Trish Winterman?

This was such a mess, all of it.

She saw someone at the doors and strained for a better view. No, that was what she was here for. She waited, watching her father walk away from the police station. A part of her wanted to go to him, to yell at him and blame him for the loss of her job and her first real case, but he wasn't the one at fault. She was. She'd been the one who had chosen to hide her connection to him, and that was it there, wasn't it? She'd still felt the need to hide it, even if she thought he was innocent.

He had to be innocent. Yes, she knew he'd hit her mum, but rape? Her father wasn't really capable of that, was he?

She shook her head, reaching for her door handle. She opened the door, stepping out. She hesitated again, thinking maybe it would be better to talk to him when he was back home. Alone.

She sighed, leaning against her car and shaking her head. This shouldn't be that difficult. She knew things weren't the same with her dad, never would be, but she should be able to do this.

“I told you I wouldn't mind being inside a police girl,” she heard from behind her, but before she could turn to face the voice, something hit her, hard, and she fell.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning brings new light to a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that the scene at the beginning is not... great. It was hard to get into the character's head, and it was also hard to find a balance between the needed part for the loose end and the rest of it.
> 
> At least it's done. I lost over a day mostly to agonizing over the idea of doing something for [this](http://treatyoselfcomm.dreamwidth.org/) (link in case it might be of use to others) and being mostly convinced that I shouldn't as I'd try to go for original fic and no one wants that... even if I could pick a story to work on. 
> 
> And while it shouldn't, that does could my objectivity as to this chapter, but I did try. I just... it all seems terrible now that it's time to post.

* * *

Gavin fought a yawn and forced himself up from the interview chair. He'd let Ed Burnett go a minute ago, still uncertain about his own instincts after all these years. He figured DI Barnaby would have had the true sense of the man from the beginning, but Gavin still didn't know if the man was telling the truth or not. Had his obsession with Trish Winterman driven him too far, or was it just an unfortunate case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

He went to the door, sure he was missing something, and that sense nagged at him even as he made his way back downstairs. He skipped Hardy's office, not willing to try and take that over, not that he could when Hardy'd already proven he was more than capable of doing his job, even in a weakened state. Gavin didn't think they'd ever really say that about him, not for all of the encouragement he'd gotten from the Barnabys before he transferred.

Days like this made him all the more convinced that he never should have been promoted, and he did wonder a bit if they'd sent him here because he was that incompetent. Maybe Hardy was right and he was the one the blame would fall on when this mess all came apart.

He shook his head as he walked outside, needing the air to clear his head. He should go find a hotel, but it was late, and he didn't even know where to look for one, so he might just go back to the files, not that he knew it would do them much good.

He saw Ed Burnett ahead of him on the street, and he was about to call out to him when he heard something else—sounded almost like a woman's voice—not quite a scream, but at this time of night, he shouldn't be hearing it at all.

“Katie!”

Burnett was on the move a second later, and Gavin followed after him, rushing across the street. An attack like this, right in the center of town, was bold, too bold. Why would anyone risk it? And why would anyone be here?

A figure fled into the darkness, and Gavin grimaced. He didn't know this town, and he was likely to get himself hurt or worse if he had to run after him, but the shadow headed right up the street to another vehicle. Gavin rushed after him, reaching it just as the car started. He had to jump out of the way as it sped off, going up the street.

He grimaced, well aware that despite the way he looked, he was too old for this sort of thing. He pushed himself off the ground and limped back to Burnett. “How is she?”

“I don't know.”

* * *

“I want to talk to you.”

Maggie looked back from the door. “Mark. I was just opening up.”

“I know it's early. Beth is asleep, same with the girls, and I needed the time,” he said. She frowned, not sure what this meant. She assumed he was still angry about the accusation, and for that, she couldn't blame him, but she had seen the same thing Olly had, and like as not, it fit.

“I know you're upset, but I don't—”

“I know this story probably means a lot to you, but I want you to bury it.”

She frowned. “Excuse me? I thought you said you didn't have anything to do with it. You were quite angry about it, too.”

“I didn't,” Mark said, and Maggie frowned, but then a minute later, she understood. She didn't know why she hadn't seen it before, since it still fit. The pattern was still there, and what they'd found in it wasn't wrong.

“It was Nige Carter, wasn't it?”

Mark sighed, but then he nodded. “It was. He admitted it to me. Not at first, but he did. Maggie, I know he did the wrong thing, but he did it... he did it for me, and he promised he'd stopped. Now, I know you were hurt by this, that he damaged the Echo, but please don't print anything.”

Maggie would like to promise that, but how did she ignore something like this? “I don't know about that. As much as I don't—”

“He swore he'd stop, and I don't want Dan's memory tarnished by this. Bad enough what is going to come, but I don't want this on us, too.”

Maggie frowned. “I'm not sure I can hold this back. I gave Olly the vandalism assignment to keep him from pushing on the rape case, and he's already chomping at the bit to put something out about Hardy going into the hospital and—”

“You can't do that,” Mark protested, surprising her. Why would he want to defend Hardy? Yes, Hardy had arrested their son's killer, and he'd later suffered at his hands, but that didn't obligate him to do anything for the other man, not really. “I don't know as I wouldn't be in the hospital myself if I had his heart condition and heard—just please, Maggie. Let this one go.”

Maggie continued to frown. She didn't understand why he'd push so hard, not unless—no, please no. “Did they—did something happen to Chloe? Was she hurt like—”

“No. It wasn't that bad. Could have been worse, but wasn't that,” Mark said. He shook his head. “I know it's a lot to ask, but I got my girls to think about. Please, let it go.”

* * *

“Wait. You're saying Hartford was attacked?” Hardy asked, frowning at the other DI. “In front of the bloody police station? Who the hell would be that stupid?”

“I can think of one man that might have been that smug,” Miller said, coming into the room and making Tony's eyes widen at the implication. She had been here overnight, that much was true, and her rumpled suit didn't help matters, even if he knew she hadn't actually slept in that thing. She'd bullied him into giving her a shirt, too, in addition to a place to sleep. Not that it helped the suit any. It still looked like it had spent the night on floor, which it probably had. He hadn't paid attention to that.

It hadn't mattered. Still shouldn't, but somehow even in his condition, things looked different than they were. Again.

Hardy turned to her. “You're thinking Mayfield?”

She nodded, covering a yawn. “He was so smug when he came in and lied to us, and we know he harassed Katie when she was watching him. He lied about fishing the night of Trish's attack, and he's got no alibi for it.”

Tony frowned. “You think he went after Harford thinking he'd gotten away with what he'd done to Trish? Even if word got around that Leo Humphries had been arrested—and it shouldn't have, that press release hasn't happened yet. Mayfield shouldn't have known.”

“I doubt it was because he thought he'd gotten away with Trish's attack,” Hardy said. He heard Daisy in the kitchen and grimaced. Not that he thought she shouldn't be up or that he didn't want some tea before they left, but he did not want her to hear any of this. “Mayfield may have wanted to use the other rapist as a way to conceal his new crime. He was already a suspect, but as long as we were actively looking into other suspects—”

“Someone else might get the blame,” Miller said, grimacing. “God, that's disgusting. Not impossible, but it was a stupid place for the attack.”

“It might have been the only opportunity that Hartford gave him,” Hardy said. He looked over as Daisy came into the room. “Morning, darling.”

“Morning, Dad. I started tea.”

“Thank you,” he told her. “DI Tony here—”

“Uh, it's Troy,” the other man said. “Or Gavin, but not Tony. I just came to update your father on the case. It took a strange turn last night.”

“Was someone else hurt?”

“Go get your things together,” Hardy told his daughter. "You've been volunteered to watch Miller's wee lad while we finish a few things.”

“What?” Daisy asked, turning to Miller. “Since when—where is your father or Tom and—what are you finishing? You had that kid, didn't you? You said you were coming home afterward, and you did come home, so—”

“Daize, I can't discuss this with you, but not everything is resolved, and I still don't want you at the school,” he told her. She glared at him, preparing for an argument, but he held up a hand. “Don't argue. Just get ready to go. Miller will take you in a bit.”

“Sir, two things—one, we haven't discussed any of this. Not that I mind Daisy watching Fred, better her than my father, but we have other things to consider—including you leaving the hospital before you should have,” Miller began, and he tried not to groan. “And two—you are not riding anywhere with Troy. His driving and your heart—just no.”

Troy grimaced. “She's got a point. My driving _is_ bad. Famously so.”

Hardy shook his head. Unbelievable. “Fine. Miller drives. We all go. Now.”

* * *

“All right,” Ellie said, closing the door to Hardy's office behind her. “What are you thinking? And don't say you're not thinking something, because you didn't just turn all of that over to Troy if you didn't have some other thought in mind about where this was all going. You suspect someone else of Trish's rape or you would never have left Mayfield in Troy's hands.”

Hardy leaned back in his chair. “Is that really what you think?”

“Yes, it is,” Ellie said. “Just like I know you had some other motive for sending Daisy to my house instead of back to the Latimer's. What is going on?”

“Maybe all I wanted to do was sit in my own office and work my own case,” Hardy said. “You were with me all night, Miller. When did I have time to find new evidence or some kind of epiphany? I kept expecting you to leave, go fuss over someone else in the hospital.”

Ellie grimaced. “I'm not sure that I should. I doubt I'd do Katie any more good than she did you. She got lucky. It could have been a lot worse. She had to have been there to see her father, and if she was—are they really as estranged as she claimed? Did she tell you the truth about his attack on her mother?”

“I don't know,” Hardy admitted. “It was Troy that cleared Burnett, not me. I didn't talk to him about that. Barely spoke to him at all before I got interrupted.”

“I know that, but I still think you know more than you're saying,” Ellie told him. She could have made a joke that it was not hard for him to do, since he hadn't said much of anything since they left his house, not even with Daisy fuming in the back seat. Ellie didn't think that Hardy had said a word while he was waiting with Troy for Ellie to change, not given the discomfort on the other man's face when she got back to the car. “Tell me what you're thinking.”

Hardy fidgeted in his chair, looking like he was having trouble getting comfortable. She didn't know if he was in pain or just not wanting to talk.

“Did they give you any prescriptions before you very unwisely left the hospital?”

“I'm fine, Miller.”

“You don't look it,” she countered. “I got less sleep than you, but you already look worn ragged.”

He gave her a long look, shaking his head. “I don't need rest. I need to solve this case. We need to solve it before someone else gets hurt. We've got Leo, and he confessed to the rapes, and we know he beat Danielle, but he did not admit to the attack on Trish Winterman. We know Ed Burnett attacked Jim Atwood, but that seems to be the end of it, at least according to Troy. We have Leo's allegation against Ian Winterman, which we can prove, but even if he asked for spyware on his wife's computer, that doesn't make him guilty of her rape. And we have Clive Lucas who lied about his alibi, but we suspect he was somehow involved in Leo reaching Danielle that night.”

“All of that we went over last night,” Ellie reminded him. They'd gotten through most of that before reaching his house. “What has changed since then?”

“What makes you think something changed?”

She snorted. “I may not have every one of your moods memorized, but I think I know this one. You are sitting on something. I didn't see it, not the first time, but after Sandbrook, I started looking for it, and I know. I know you did it when you had Tom's laptop, and I know you did it with Claire. I can tell you're doing it now.”

He gave her a frown, but then he leaned forward, looking a bit predatory and not like a man who'd had a heart attack a few days ago, more like a cat in the cream—if that cat was a bit evil and deranged.

“Someone tried to frame Leo with the cricket bat,” Hardy reminded her. She waited, and he almost smiled as he said, “think, Miller. Who had access to that bat?”

“You mean besides Trish's rapist? We do have forensics from it, remember? Her blood and DNA was on it as well as fingerprints from the boys, but they admitted to playing with it.”

“Yes, and who would know they had besides them?”

“Trish's rapist,” Ellie answered, and then she sat back. “Who must have seen Leo and Micheal that night. The question is... did they see him?”

Hardy gave her a grim look. “Maybe not, but they certainly heard him.”

“What?”

“Leo went to that party prepared to commit a rape.”

“Oh, God,” Ellie whispered. “You think he did hit Trish, but someone spooked him before he actually went through with the rape. What, Ed Burnett? He told Troy he heard the attack, but he didn't stop it.”

“No. According to Burnett, he heard drunk sex. The rape was in progress.”

“Right,” Ellie said. “Are you thinking that was just words? Because... nothing points to anyone else at the moment.”

“No, it does. It's not much. Not anything the CPS would use,” Hardy said, dismissive. “Now that I'm about to tell you, I think you'll laugh.”

“I might take you back to the hospital if your theory is completely insane, but for now, I'm willing to hear you out,” she said. “What do you know?”

“I'll tell you, Miller. If you take me back to Axehampton first.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They visit Axehampton house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit short, but I thought that it was fitting to end it here. At least... that's the story I'm sticking to, since I'm back in the "nothing I write is good" phase that I'm rarely out of. Still, I'm not sure how I could make this better, and drawing it out seemed worse and wrong.
> 
> Still... this was my theory of where the show was going with this case, and while I can see why they went the other route, in some ways, I think this idea would have been worse. And yet... I still went back to it for this story.

* * *

“Are you going to tell us anything before we get there?” Miller prodded, and Hardy gave her a look across the car. He'd said he'd tell her after Axehampton, and she knew that, so he didn't know why she was bothering to ask. All it did was annoy him, especially after Troy had butted into things. He knew why that was—the CS didn't want Hardy on this, mucking it up with his heart condition, so Troy's presence became necessary, like as not.

Frankly, he'd be lucky to have his job after this, whether medical cleared him or not, and he doubted they would when he had to see them tomorrow. He was up against another deadline, running out of time, but he'd come past that one, and he'd do it again now.

“No, Miller. I am not.”

“You are insufferable,” she grumbled. “I swear, if I wasn't afraid we wouldn't finish this, I wouldn't even be in the car with you.”

“I would have come on my own, but they've banned me from driving again,” Hardy said, still angry about that. He could see their reasoning, at least in part, but he didn't see himself having another attack under these circumstances. People were forcing him to eat and sleep, and without Hartford in the office to annoy the hell out of him, his stress level was down. It helped that Troy wasn't entirely incompetent and the man was willing to work with him to see this through. Had that not happened, Hardy would likely be in a very different position right now, one far less pleasant.

“I think there may be some concern that this idea of yours won't lead us anywhere,” Troy admitted. “Not that I mind. Uniform have picked up Mayfield, he was very uncooperative, and I think I'd like to have him stew a bit while everything gets in order.”

“How's the leg?” Miller asked, looking at him in the mirror.

“I think my cricket days are over,” Troy joked, and Hardy grunted. “I'm fine. A bit sore. Body doesn't shrug that off the way it used to when I was younger.”

“Yeah, all of us know a thing or two about that,” Miller said. “All right. If you won't discuss why we're headed to Axehampton, why don't you tell us your plan for resolving Daisy's case? Because we haven't done anything on that since we talked to Micheal Lucas.”

“Need to pull in both Dave Jones and James Green, see which one of them cracks first,” Hardy said. “Doubt they'll hold out long, but they could always surprise me. No, they won't. They're smug little pricks, but they've got no real balls. Should have said I'd cut their little cocks off if they came around my daughter again.”

“Just don't do it on the record,” Troy warned him. “Otherwise, I'm with you. I'd say it if it were my daughter. Not that I ever managed that. Screwed the relationships in my life up before kids. Probably a good thing.”

Miller sighed. “Is it really just this job? Does it do that to everyone?”

Hardy snorted. “I don't think it was your job that turned your ex-husband into a bloody pervert. He was one, he just hid it for years.”

She grimaced. “I suppose you're right about that.”

“It doesn't,” Troy said from the back seat. “The job, I mean. My DI, he and his wife were celebrating twenty-five years when I was still working for him, and they lasted past his retirement. And his cousin, who took over after he left, he's still happily married. They had kids late, but they work it out. It's just me. Well, us. We're just bad at it. Not that we want to admit it, but it's true.”

Hardy shook his head. “Never denied it. Figured my ex-wife knew what I was before she married me, thought she accepted it. Don't think that was ever true. Just wish I'd known that before she ballsed up a case to shag another man.”

Miller gave him a look. “That was surprisingly... forthcoming for you.”

He snorted. “Miller, what part of that did you not know before I said it?”

“Um...”

“Exactly.”

* * *

“Mr. Tamworth,” Ellie called, still trying to figure out what Hardy was up to here. He hadn't given them anything to go on, but he was up to something, and she wanted to know what it was, how it was going to affect their case.

“Oh,” the older man said, sounding a bit flustered. “You're back. I'd thought... well, no one came around for a bit, and I was hoping maybe you'd resolved it all. You haven't found him, then, the man that did this?”

“I'm afraid not,” Ellie told him. “We're still looking, which is why we've come. DI Hardy has a few questions for you.”

Hardy said nothing, and she frowned, wondering if she'd gotten that wrong. Were they just here to look around? Why the bloody hell hadn't he said so? She wouldn't have made a fool of herself if she'd known that.

“I'm DI Troy,” the other man said, forcing a smile for Tamworth in the awkward silence that had fallen on them. “I'm assisting with the case, and I haven't had a chance to walk the scene yet. I don't suppose you could lead us there?”

“Right, of course,” Tamworth said. “It's out back here. This way, past this hall.”

Ellie gave Hardy another look before following Troy and the owner through the hall out to the back of the house. She knew he had to know what he was doing, but it didn't seem like it at the moment. Was it his intention to have Troy distract Tamworth? Why? They'd been all over the house and grounds already, and why would they conceal another search from Tamworth?

“This is a very nice house you have,” Troy told Tamworth. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Oh, yes,” Tamworth said. “It's been in my family for generations now. Used to be something special. These days, though... I can barely afford the upkeep. That's why we rent it out, like we did for this party.”

Troy nodded. “Does that ever bother you, having so many strangers in your home?”

“Not so long as they clean up after themselves.”

“It doesn't bother you,” Hardy said, and Ellie frowned. She had a feeling she knew where he was going with, and maybe she should have driven him back to the hospital. “All those people in your house, having a go at your things. Making messes, getting drunk, having sex... That doesn't bother you at all.”

“Um... No.”

Troy shook his head. “I think I'm with DI Hardy there. I think it would. In fact, I think you might have come back to the house to see how out of control this party was getting.”

“I would know the next day,” Tamworth said. “I didn't have to come back.”

“Only you did, didn't you?” Ellie asked, feeling a little sick. She was right there with the others, the last few pieces clicking into place as they reached the waterfall. Tamworth had led them right where it happened, hadn't he? How did he know? Had someone been sloppy and told him? Was it going around? Or did he know because he'd been here?

“You told DC Hartford that the waterfall was your spot,” Hardy said. “You'd sit and no one would notice you.”

“I did?”

“It was in her notes,” Hardy went on, and Ellie wondered when he'd bothered to read them. At least Hartford had been thorough while she was ruining their bloody case. “It didn't seem important to her. Not to any of us—but that was before we knew for sure we were dealing with a much older case as well. One that happened decades ago.”

Tamworth swallowed. “I don't understand.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Hardy told him. “And I think you know the name of the woman you hurt back then. You've had a long time of living in the same town to learn exactly who she is. You might have thought you got away with it because she never told anyone about her attack, but that's no longer true. We know. And we know it was you.”

Ellie wasn't really sure how they were going to prove any of that. All they had was a theory and the very thin connection of Tamworth knowing where the rape happened. He was at his house, there were other ways he could have found out about it, and just because he owned the place didn't make him guilty. It was a stretch, and Hardy knew that—that was why he hadn't told her they were coming here to accuse Tamworth.

Not that she thought he was wrong, she had the terrible feeling that he was very right about this seemingly sweet old man, but they were going to have a damned hard time proving it unless he confessed, and she wasn't sure he would.

And God help them if somehow that got thrown out.

Tamworth looked back at the waterfall. “This was my spot, my special place. We spent the summers here growing up, back when it was something, when my father was alive. Now we can't afford it, but it was my home. My place. And... They left her there... like a gift.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another interview, and the case winds down a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I will just say the interview was very hard to write, so that's why this is... how it is.

* * *

“You could have told me.”

Hardy shrugged. “Had nothing on him. Wasn't sure we'd get anything from him.”

“Still, you suspected him,” Ellie said, frustrated as well as completely horrified. What Tamworth had said about why he attacked Trish—God, every time she thought about it, she felt sick. It was wrong, so damned wrong. Rape was wrong, period, but Tamworth... He had seemed so kind and innocuous, not the type of person she would have expected. Leo, she could see him as a rapist so easily, same with Mayfield, but Tamworth? “Just because he owned Axehampton?”

Hardy leaned back in his chair. Tamworth was being processed now, and in a minute, they'd have to go in and take his statement, and if he recanted what he'd said by the waterfall, they had nothing. Not unless Hardy was about to tell her he did, but as far as she knew, it was still nothing.

“That line from Hartford's notes came back to me. Probably because I was thinking about how much damage she'd done to our case. Irritated me because she wasn't incompetent. The attention to detail, writing down that bit from their conversation...” Hardy shook his head. “It wasn't much, but if Troy was right and it wasn't Ed Burnett, then we had, what? Jim Atwood and Ian Winterman. Jim's infidelity was a known factor, and Ian was implicated in the spyware, but having Leo hand us our suspect... No.”

She didn't blame Hardy for that. She didn't want to use anything Leo gave them except his confession. “So between that conversation in Harford's notes and him owning Axehampton, having access to the cricket bat... That's what we had, and we still went forward with it?”

“Troy got him to take us right to the site where Trish was raped,” Hardy said. “Wasn't expecting that, and it's not proof, not completely, but it was enough to tip the scales.”

“And then he as much as confessed,” Ellie said. She looked at him. “Were you thinking he was entitled? Felt entitled, I mean. His family's estate here in Axehampton used to be the center of the village—hamlet—whatever the hell it was. He no longer has the money to maintain it, but when he was younger—”

“He might have considered Coates' victim his right, just as he saw Trish as a gift,” Hardy said, and Ellie gagged. Those words would haunt her for the rest of her life, right up there with Leo's and the devastating it was Joe.

“You think he'll confess again? To all of it?”

Hardy nodded. “Good chance of it, actually. He's not like Leo, getting bolder with each rape. He's older, closer to the end of his life. One of his victims is dying, and he might be close to that himself. He might also be a bit more human than our other specimen.”

“Not a bad word for Leo,” she admitted. “Though smug little shit worked, too.”

Troy opened the door to Hardy's office, poking his head in. “They've got Tamworth ready.”

“That's us, then,” Hardy said, rising. He stopped, catching hold of his desk and closing his eyes.

“Sir?”

“Stood up too fast,” he said, shaking it off. “I'm fine, Miller. Let's go end this.”

* * *

“How many 'gifts' have you found over the years, Mr. Tamworth?” Hardy asked as he sat down. He set a file on the table, knowing he had nothing in it of use. They would only have Tamworth's confession and whatever he might offer with it, and he could well walk away from all charges if they weren't careful.

Leo Humphries and Aaron Mayfield were not going to walk, but that would be little consolation to Trish or that other victim.

“Gifts?”

“You called Trish Winterman a gift,” Hardy reminded him. “You said she'd been left for you.”

“She was,” Tamworth said, and his solicitor gave him a look, but he ignored it. “She was left there for me in my special spot. It could only have been a gift.”

“Have you found other gifts?” Miller pressed. “They wouldn't have had to be in your special place. They could have been... anywhere. In a field, maybe. Walking home.”

Tamworth looked at his hands. “I found others.”

“How many?” Hardy asked. “Two? Five? Ten?”

“Perhaps... eight,” Tamworth answered, and Hardy tried to control his reaction. Eight. Eight was both too high and not high enough. Best case, it was the two they knew of, no more, but worst could have been one for each year since the attack they did know about, and that was thirty-five years ago. Eight was more reasonable.

It was still horrifying, but it was... more manageable a number.

“Eight,” Miller repeated, her eyes darting to a wincing Troy. “Do you know their names?”

Tamworth studied his hands. “Some. Others must have been tourists. I never saw them again. Some I know, though. I've seen them since. Some even smile at me.”

“Because they didn't see you when you attacked them,” Miller said. “If they knew you'd been the one to hurt them, there's no way. No smiles. No kind words. Not for you.”

Tamworth shook his head, and Hardy knew they were losing him. Like Leo, he didn't see what he'd done as a crime, and the more Miller pushed that, the less likely they were to get him to give them the confession they had to have, one that would need collaborating evidence before they could use it.

“Tell us about Saturday night,” Hardy said. “You started to before, but you can give us more detail now. You went back to Axehampton that night, didn't you?”

Tamworth nodded. “My wife was fussing about how bad a state the house would be in after a party like that. She took a sleeping pill and went to bed early. I... I got in the car and drove. I just drove...”

“You parked on your neighbor's property,” Hardy said. “The one belonging to Morie.”

Tamworth nodded. “Morie's almost never there, and while I know he'd pitch a fit if he knew, it was close to my spot, and I could see everything. They never saw me. Not once. It was the best way, so long as Morie wasn't home.”

“Did you know he wouldn't be home?”

“Yes. We always have to notify him if we rent the hall, and he said it was just as well he had things to do that night.”

Hardy nodded. “And so you went to the waterfall. Did you bring alcohol with you? How long were you there alone?”

“Couple hours, and I had my flask,” Tamworth said, patting his suit pocket. “I could hear the party, heard a few arguments, some kids playing... I was getting ready to leave when I heard them. I came out of the bushes and there she was. Tied up. Waiting.”

“And after you saw her, what did you do?”

“You know.”

Hardy shook his head. “This is a formal interview, Mr. Tamworth. You have to tell us what you did for the record.”

“I... I had sex with her,” Tamworth said. “My wife, she... well, we don't... it's been so long, and with that woman there waiting... the gift... I just wanted to feel that again. It had been so long...”

“How long?” Hardy asked, and the other man frowned at him. “You've helped yourself to other women in the past, so you could have done it. Why didn't you?”

Tamworth shook his head. “When we couldn't afford the hall any longer, it was... difficult. We were here less. I didn't have the same freedom.”

Freedom. That was a disgusting word for it. Hardy sat back in his chair. “You have children.”

“Yes.”

“Was one of them born thirty-five years ago?”

“Yes,” Tamworth said. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you go looking for someone else when your wife was pregnant?” Hardy asked, and Miller swallowed, giving him a look as she tried to control her reaction. “Did you?”

“Yes.”

“And did this happen with all your children?”

“Yes.”

* * *

“I never want to work another case like this,” Gavin said, feeling like he needed a shower. He didn't think he was the only one. Both Hardy and Miller were uncomfortable after that interview, though Tamworth's confession had given them all they needed, including a bit of forensics to tie him to the Winterman rape and his admission that he'd filmed at least one other woman he'd attacked and had the video hidden away.

“Me, either,” Miller said. “God, it makes murder seem appealing, and that's so completely wrong. No, let's go back to the vandals we were chasing before this.”

“Vandal. Was one man,” Hardy said. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck. “Still need to talk to Dave Jones and James Green.”

“They should be here soon,” Gavin told him, and Hardy frowned at him. “I asked them, their parents, and solicitors to be here for a few questions regarding an incident at the school. They all agreed to come. Oh, I asked while they were prepping Tamworth. That's not a problem, is it?”

Hardy eyed him with suspicion, but Miller shook her head.

“No, it's good. We need to talk to them, though I think someone's surprised you had enough foresight to think of that while you were in the middle of the rest of it.”

“Well...” Gavin grimaced. “To be honest, I don't think you'll like what I'm about to say. Given that these two were involved in photographing your daughter without her consent, I don't think you should be there for the actual interview. If you were to lose your temper—which I would, if it were my daughter—it's probably better for a neutral party to handle it, and Miller, you're not neutral.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's not hard to see that you're close to DI Hardy—”

“Oh, do not start that again,” she said. “I don't know why you're dragging that rumor up again, but he was just in the bloody hospital. That is not happening.”

Gavin coughed, pulling at his collar. “Um... that's not what I meant. I mean, you were at his house overnight, which others might misinterpret, but I just meant... I'd seen how close your families were. Daisy deferred to you like a mother.”

“She did?”

“No,” Hardy said. Gavin frowned. “If she was treating you like she does her mother, she'd have yelled at you the likes of which you've not seen. She's very angry with Tess these days. Like a bloody war zone that is.”

Miller gave him a slight smile. “Guess it's a good thing she likes me, then.”

Hardy grunted. “Don't flatter yourself, Miller. It's wee Fred she likes. She just tolerates you.”

Miller snorted. “You're usually better when you start getting defensive and lashing out. That was rather weak for you.”

“I'm not lashing out,” Hardy said. “Stating facts. That's not the same thing.”

“Wanker.” 

Hardy ignored that. “Jones and Green are the last of it that hasn't been resolved, aren't they? We have Leo for three rapes and the assault on his girlfriend. We have Ed Burnett for assault. We have Arthur Tamworth for eight rapes, including Trish Winterman's. So it's just a matter of the photographs now. Suppose the CS would like to drop that angle.”

“Not happening, not unless that's what Daisy and Chloe really want,” Miller said. “And you're forgetting the vandalism.”

Hardy shook his head. “Didn't forget. Just had... other priorities.”

Miller frowned. “Do you have a suspect there you're not telling us about, too? Like with Tamworth? Why would you keep that from me? We could clear them all and tell the CS to shove it when she starts trying to medical you out.”

Gavin grimaced. “I hadn't heard about that.”

Hardy waved a hand, dismissing it. “She wants me to see the doctor. Not a surprise after ending up in the bloody hospital.”

“For what it's worth, there's nothing wrong with the part of you that you really need to do this job,” Gavin said, and Hardy gave him a look. “I just... your mind is fine. Impressive, even. You're a good copper, and they'd be idiots to let you go.”

“What is with the flattery all of a sudden?” Hardy asked. “This to convince me that I have to accept your word on going in with the little shits who hurt my daughter?”

“Um...”

“DI Troy,” a PC said from the doorway, his timing very welcome. “Dave Jones is here to see you.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie tells Trish who attacked her, and life starts going on after the case is done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end. It felt like a good enough place to leave things, even if it doesn't quite live up to the story's title.

* * *

“Hi, there,” Ellie began, giving Trish her best smile. The conversation with Arthur Tamworth still weighing on her. She felt sick, and she was a bit reluctant to leave when Troy was interviewing the boys involved in those photographs, but she figured Trish deserved to know they'd arrested someone, and this way Hardy had a viable distraction from those same interviews. “Can I come in? We've charged someone in connection with the attack.”

“Okay,” Trish said, opening the door. She gave her daughter a worried glance, and Ellie gave Leah a smile. This wasn't over, not until after the trial, and even then—no, it wouldn't be over, but it would start to get better, little by little. “I don't think I want to know who it is.”

“Yes, you do, Mum,” Leah said. “It's got to be worse not knowing.”

“What if—Is it someone I know?” 

Ellie shook her head. “I don't think you do know him, or if you do, not well. His name's Arthur Tamworth.”

Trish stared at her, the name not registering at all with her. “I don't know who that is.”

“I read that somewhere,” Leah said. “Isn't he—he owns that place, don't he?”

Ellie nodded. “You were actually hit by a man named Leo Humphries. He and another boy were at the party, and they might have... hurt you if Tamworth hadn't interrupted them.”

“What?”

“What other boy?” Leah demanded. “And why did they attack my mum?”

“It wasn't planned,” Ellie said. “It... you were there, and Leo was... grooming this younger boy, Micheal Lucas—”

“He goes to my school,” Leah said, frowning. “He's the son of that cab driver. He's a year below me or something like that. How can he be a part of this?”

Ellie sighed. “As I said, he was being... groomed by that local man, Leo Humphries. We've charged Leo with two counts of assault—yours and that of his girlfriend—as well as three other non-recent cases of rape.”

“Three rapes?” Trish repeated, grabbing hold of the wall. “But... but not me.”

Ellie shook her head. “It's likely he would have, but he was interrupted by Tamworth, who... he raped other women in the past, going back much further than Leo's.”

“By about thirty years,” Hardy said, startling everyone with his words. “He found you, but instead of doing the decent thing, he took advantage of the state you were in. It's nothing you did. Nothing you said. You were there, Leo Humphries saw a moment, took it, and lost it to another man.”

Trish gagged, shaking, and Leah went to her, holding her close as she shook. “I don't... how could... Why would anyone do that?”

Ellie winced. “Tamworth had convinced himself that he could... stop, but like an addict or an alcoholic, he was just one opportunity away from doing it again.”

“So I was just unlucky?” Trish asked, still horrified. “That's it?”

“It's not any easier if you know why someone did it,” Hardy told her bluntly. “Don't think it would be. This sort of thing... reasons aren't enough, and they never will be, not after what it takes from you.”

“You would say that. You've been—”

“Is that what it took from you?” Leah asked, swallowing. “I... Daisy said something, and I looked you up. That guy that killed that kid... he... he raped you.”

Hardy flinched. “No. Not... it was a sexual assault, but not to that degree. Not the same.”

Trish only gaped at him. Ellie crossed to her side.

“I'm really sorry, Trish,” she told her. “But we do have him in custody, and he has confessed to attacking you and several other women. He will go down for this.”

Trish forced herself to nod. “That's something, I guess.”

* * *

Gavin set his papers on the table, willing himself not to screw up this interview. It was too damned important for that, even if he was only here temporarily. Hardy would never forgive him if they didn't get this right, but he'd also never forgive himself. Gavin knew one of these girls—not well, they'd barely met and her father did his best to keep her attention away from Troy—and while he'd never met the other one, he didn't want these boys getting away with what they'd done. This might have been different if the girls had said yes and wanted to be photographed, but they hadn't. They'd been too drunk to know what was happening, and he knew that it wouldn't have taken much to change that situation from a few revealing photos to something much worse.

If, by some chance, these boys were unaware that what they'd done was wrong, then this had to be a wake up call for them, had to stop them. And if not... then it still had to stop them or at least the charges might warn people of what they were likely to become.

He didn't want that to be the case, but he knew that all he could do was try and make the charges stick. That was the best any of them could do, and he was sure they all knew it wasn't enough.

He picked up two prints, one of each of the girls. “You had friends over to your house on Monday June 13th, didn't you?”

“Yeah, so? Wasn't like anyone called you about the noise. It wasn't that kind of a thing.”

“It was a much bigger 'thing' than you realize,” Gavin told him. “Did you take pictures that night?”

“Might have. We all do sometimes. Put 'em on those sites, don't even think about doing it.”

“Except I'm pretty sure you were careful with what you did with these pictures,” Gavin said, thinking this kid was a bit too much like Leo Humphries for his comfort. “The ones of Chloe Latimer and Daisy Hardy.”

“They might have been in a few,” Jones said. “That's not a crime.”

“These ones are,” Gavin said. “You know how old Daisy and Chloe are?”

“Um... seventeen? So?”

“They're considered minors in the eyes of the law,” Gavin told him. “That makes the pictures you took and distributed of them child pornography.”

That made the smug indifference disappear from the kid's face. “What?”

Gavin nodded. “It's a very serious charge. You would serve prison time. You would be put on the registry for sexual offenders. This will stay with you for the rest of your life.”

“I didn't do anything wrong.”

“No, you did, by distributing these pictures,” Gavin said, holding them out to show Jones what he meant. “Both girls will testify that they did not consent to be photographed, had no knowledge they were taken, and were unaware they were being distributed around town and the internet. We have others who have told us that you were the ones passing them by phone as well as computer forensics that show us you created the online account where these images were stored.”

“That's not true. Look at them. They're smiling for the bloody camera.”

“And how much alcohol did you have at your house that night?”

Jones swallowed. “That still doesn't make it wrong. They wanted to do it.”

“Only because they were drunk, and neither of them remembers drinking enough for that,” Gavin disagreed. “Did you spike the punch that night?”

“Who told you that?” Jones asked, sounding a bit desperate.

“You just did,” Gavin told him. “Was it always your plan to get the girls drunk?”

“Well...” Jones grimaced. “It was about... We just wanted to see the one loosen up a bit. Chloe, we know she's all right. She's fun. Good sport, even after what happened to her brother. The other one... she's new, and everyone knows her dad's a wanker of a cop. We just wanted to see her have a bit of fun. She was all nervous and sitting on the edge of our group with Chloe all night.”

Gavin tried not to react too much. “You thought it was 'fun' to get her drunk without her knowledge?”

Jones shrugged. “She started to enjoy herself. Seemed like a good idea.”

“And whose idea was it to take pictures of her?”

Jones swallowed. “Not sure.”

“You're lying.”

“Fine, it was mine,” Jones said, shaking his head. “It was just... she was so far gone she wouldn't believe us when we told her about it, so I figured a bit of proof, right? Only she starts posing, Chloe wants in on it, and they were both giggling and laughing...”

Gavin pulled out some of the more risque pictures. “Who decided the girls should get naked?”

“Them, of course.”

“You're lying again,” Gavin said, leaning forward. “You see, I've got pictures from the start of this impromptu photo shoot of yours, and in the first few, the girls are having normal pictures like you'd expect from the kind of party you claim this was. Then we have a hand holding out a bottle, and a few more pictures later... we get the first bit of skin. Based on that alone, I'd doubt your story, but I've also got sworn statements from both girls—”

“It was James who said it,” Jones blurted out. “He said they should take it all off, and they said no at first, so he gave them more to drink. It was just a joke, I thought, but then they actually did it. They started showing stuff. And it was... well, it was fun.”

Gavin shook his head. “No, what you did was wrong. The girls no longer knew what they were doing. You did. Your friends did. They didn't. And that makes this wrong.”

“But I didn't—” 

“You made it worse by sharing those pictures around to everyone including older males. I know you showed them to Leo Humphries.”

“Leo's a good friend. I thought he'd like them.”

“I'm sure he did,” Gavin said. “Since he's just been arrested for rape, and you're barely a step behind him at this rate.”

“What?”

* * *

“Dave Jones and James Green both admitted to being a part of taking the pictures and distributing them, though they argue over who was responsible for them, particularly the ones where the girls were half-naked or worse. Jones says Green goaded them into it and gave them more to drink. Green says it was Jones. We may never know who's telling the truth there,” Troy reported, coming into Hardy's office and sitting down on the chair next to Ellie. “I think they were both equally a part of it, though, so I'm not necessarily worried about that.”

“You're not?” Hardy asked with a tired snort, not opening his eyes. She'd actually thought he'd fallen asleep over in his chair, and she'd been willing to let him stay that way as long as she could, as quiet as he'd been since they got back from telling Trish about the arrest. “The CS is going to renew her position on dropping the case.”

“I already passed on what we had to CPS,” Troy said. “They'll decide on prosecution, not the CS.”

“You've more of a backbone than I thought you did,” Hardy told him, and Troy gave him a slight frown. Ellie thought that was almost a compliment from Hardy—in the most backhanded of ways, of course—and he should take what he got. “Where does that leave us, Miller?”

“We have Leo Humphries in custody, charges are likely to come against Ed Burnett, though it's hard to be sure after Mayfield attacked Katie. Mayfield's back in prison after breaking his parole, and he'll be brought up for th attack on her, despite his attempts to deny it. We've got his car on CCTV and Katie says she heard his voice.”

“Might still be difficult for her,” Troy said. “Her getting herself pulled from this case with a suspicion of possible corruption—”

“Mayfield should not be allowed to get away with this.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Troy has a point, Miller,” Hardy said. “It could damage her case in court, especially if his defense is anything like that bloody Susan Bishop that did your husband's.”

Ellie grimaced. Last thing she wanted was that happening again. “Let's hope not.”

“Everything is... basically done, with the exception of your physical,” Troy said. “I'll probably be here for a couple days more, though mostly for paperwork's sake.”

Ellie tried not to look at Hardy. “You think they won't ask you to do this permanently?”

Troy shook his head. “They've got you, and I'm not sure it would be worth them trying to force him out. Anyone who worked in this area would end up seeking him out for advice—I know I would. And I doubt they could keep him out of any of their cases. Town's too small for that.”

Hardy grunted. “You made your case, Troy. No need to bother trying to flatter anyone.”

Ellie shook her head as she rose from her chair. “Come on. I'll take you home. Nothing for you to do before tomorrow besides paperwork, and if it were me, I'd leave that whole mess to spite them.”

“You'll get stuck with it,” Hardy told her, and she grimaced, knowing he was right.

* * *

“That was Paul,” Beth said, setting down the phone to look over at Ellie. “Ruth Hall... she died, not long after he told her you'd arrested the man who raped her. He thinks that was the peace she needed to let go. Me? I'm angry.”

“I don't blame you,” Ellie said. “An arrest is not a conviction, and he got away with it for too damned long while she suffered in silence.”

Beth leaned over the counter, taking a breath and letting it out again. “After what happened with Chloe and the pictures, I keep thinking what if that had been her?”

“It wasn't, thank God,” Ellie said. “Though it came way too close for anyone's liking. I knew you'd want to be told what happened with those boys—though we'd have had to come anyway since Daisy brought Fred here rather than stick around my house.”

Beth's eyes went to the backyard. Chloe and the boys were playing some kind of game while Daisy had a conversation with her father. “I'm glad she's come. I think those two are good for each other.”

“Me, too,” Ellie agreed. She came over to Beth's side. “I should be glad it's all over, only I'm not sure I feel it is yet. Not that I am saying I think there's more rapists out there—or that we've done everything with Chloe and Daisy's case—but it... it's still not over somehow. Maybe I'm just worried about Hardy passing that physical. I don't know.”

“And if he doesn't?” Beth asked. 

“I'm not sure I want to know what will happen to him if they take him off the force again. As hard as this was for him, as much as it almost killed him, he'd be lost without it.”

Beth nodded. She could see that. “Hopefully, it won't come to that. I'm not sure, nice as Troy was, that he'd have found that other man. Tamworth. God, that doesn't seem real.”

“I know. That's how I feel. I spoke to him. I never got a sense that he was like that at all. Leo Humphries, yes. I could see that one coming a mile away, but Tamworth? He seemed like this kind, gentle old man. And he wasn't.”

“A bit like Joe.”

Ellie winced. “I've gone over and over it, looking for what I must have missed with him, and I still don't see it. I should be able to see it, but he had me completely fooled, Beth.”

“I know.” Beth's eyes went back to the figures in the yard. “I see Hardy and I think... Dan got lucky. Joe never did that to him. He would have, but he killed him instead. And... I am so angry to think about it like that. It's not like I haven't seen how life can go on after that sort of thing, but I have seen how hard it is, and I want to kill Joe all over again.”

“So do I,” Ellie admitted. “He's lucky he's in prison. Even that doesn't feel like enough. He's not free, but neither we're not, either.”

“We will be,” Beth said. “That's what this job has taught me, what losing Danny taught me. It doesn't have to control us. We can overcome it. Not all of it, not all at once, but every day we get up and keep going—we do.”

“You are so incredibly brave, you know that,” Ellie told her. “And no, I am not just buttering you up. I mean that. You are amazing, Beth.”

Beth gave her a weak smile back, saved from saying anything in response as Mark came into the room. She turned to him, knowing they needed to talk, too, and she was aware of Ellie slipping away after a quick hello.

“It was Nige,” Mark told her. “The vandalism. He was doing it for me, and... I don't know what I'm gonna do, Beth, but I have to... I have to do something. I can't let that happen again. Do you... could you... would you be willing to help me?”

* * *

“You have your own house,” Hardy reminded Miller, not entirely certain why she was avoiding it now. Her father was off at the pub, and while facing a drunk stumbling home was unpleasant, that didn't make it impossible to do or worth sitting around here to avoid.

“I know.”

Hardy eyed her, still frowning. “Why are you here?”

She sighed. “Still waiting for the next crisis to start, I suppose. I'm glad this is over, and we got everyone, but... Between Leo and Tamworth... is that really what people are like here? This case was full of men that give you a bad name. We've got Jim Atwood, he's a cheater, and he looked good for this. We've got Ed Burnett. He was stalking Trish and he can be violent. Ian Winterman was spying on his wife through the camera on her computer. And Clive Lucas is a cheater, too, and his lying for his son... it doesn't make him any better. My ex-husband killed Danny and did horrible things to you. Who's left?”

“Dirty Brian?”

She snorted. “He asked me out when I was still married.”

“Fine. Troy.”

“Yeah, but he's not local.”

“Bob Randall?”

“Okay, there we go,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “One man besides you that's not a creep. That's not a reassuring figure.”

“You didn't mention the vicar.”

“Oh, Paul. Of course.”

“Miller—”

“It's just... if you are one of the few decent men in this place, what do we do if they try and medical you out again? That actually scares me some,” she said, looking up at him. “I shouldn't have pushed you into this. I knew it would be bad. I didn't know it would almost kill you. Again.”

Hardy shook his head. “I was fine until I thought we were going to lose it all because of Hartford. I know you don't agree, but it's true. I was managing.”

“Barely.”

“Oh, you. Fussing about how much I eat when you eat those disgusting eggs,” he grumbled. Her idea of food didn't qualify, so she had no right to lecture him on it. “And it's not like you didn't force me to eat, more than once. I was fine.”

“I shouldn't have to force you.”

“Daisy,” he called, and she came around the corner a little too fast to pretend she hadn't been listening in. “Tell Miller how often we ate together when you were little.”

She twisted her lip. “Almost never. Dad didn't do breakfast, and he almost always worked late, so we didn't really get meals together, especially since Mum's a lousy cook. We'd go out if we wanted that, but Dad is so picky that got to be a hassle, and Mum didn't like going because he'd be difficult about the menu.”

He turned back to Miller. “Nothing has changed. This isn't about Joe Miller. I keep telling you that. You just don't listen.”

“She's not completely wrong, though,” Daisy said. “You did seem to be eating less since I've been with you. I think part of that is the diet you're on for your heart—you hate that stuff, but you won't admit it—and the rest is that if you remember what he did, you can't eat. I can't when I think about what those boys could have done besides those pictures.”

He gestured to her, and she went over to his side, sitting down beside him. He wrapped an arm around her and held her close, giving her forehead a kiss.

“We'll get through this, Daize.”

She nodded against him. “I know.”

* * *

When he woke later from another nightmare, he wasn't sure who told him to go back to sleep, but he was too tired to argue about it, and in the end, it didn't really matter. He was warm, maybe too warm, and there was weight pushing on him, but he wasn't with Joe Miller, and that was enough for him.

It had to be.


End file.
